Her Other Half
by PrettyPleaseWithSugarOnTop
Summary: Drabble collection between Byakuya and Hisana. Varying AUs.
1. Chapter 1: The Beginning

**Verse:** 'Half-Canon'.

* * *

She'd passed out somewhere within the forests of Hanging Dog.

Shimizu Hisana knew it was most likely exhaustion that had done her in. She'd wandered the endless streets of the Rukon District for several consecutive days, searching for her missing baby sister. It had been numerous years since she had abandoned her sibling, and she had never stopped searching for her since then, having regretted her decision immensely.

Although Hisana did not require much sustenance since she possessed very little spiritual energy within her body, she was still capable of feeling fatigued. Her bare feet were covered in bloodied scratches and abrasions from walking on the rough, grimy ground—no one wore sandals in the slums of Hanging Dog, because no one could afford them—and she had sprained her right ankle when she'd accidentally fallen down earlier, causing it to swell into an ugly shade of crimson. The pain was bad, but still bearable.

Eventually, she'd stumbled into the forest.

Her head had begun to spin, the tall trees blurring around her, and the next thing she knew, her vision had gone black.

When she opened her eyes again, she realised she was lying on the forest floor, the golden rays of the setting sun flooding the greenery of the forest. Vaguely, she wondered how long she had been unconscious.

Hisana turned her head tiredly, too weary to try to get up from her supine position, and stiffened when she spotted someone standing with his back facing her.

The amber glow of the sunset illuminated the stranger's long windflower silk scarf, which flickered in the soft breeze. Hisana sat up, her exposed feet brushing against the grass and fallen twigs on the ground, and stared.

He was a Shinigami. She could tell that from the ebony robes he was wearing.

Hisana knew enough about the Shinigami—that they were officers of the law and that they lived in Seireitei. She also knew that their duties included battling Hollows and protecting Soul Society.

Ah. It made sense now as to why a Shinigami had arrived in Hanging Dog. There had been a strange increase in deaths lately, and many suspected that a Hollow was lurking in Hanging Dog and killing off innocent souls.

A Shinigami must had been dispatched here to investigate.

Hisana looked down at herself and inhaled a labored breath when she realised that the throbbing pain in her skinny ankle was gone. The swelling had gone down; in fact, the redness of her skin had completely vanished, almost as if she had never been injured in the first place.

Her jaw dropped, and her large violet eyes darted in shock to the Shinigami standing before her. Had he healed her with his Kidō?

She wondered what had gone through his mind upon coming across a collapsed, unconscious woman in the woods. He could have chosen to ignore her and leave, but instead, this mysterious Shinigami had healed her swollen ankle instead.

"Um, excuse me," Hisana piped up timidly. "Thank you for helping me."

He turned his head, and she found her heartbeat quickening when slate grey eyes pierced her violet ones. His face were unreadable; she couldn't tell what he was thinking. Still, Hisana admired his aristocratic features—his long lashes, high cheekbones and sensuously curved lips were extremely pleasing to the eye.

She was very grateful that he had healed her. If he hadn't, she would have to put up with her wound for a long time, since her body had an irritating tendency to take ages to recover on its own.

Hastily, Hisana stuck her hand into the sleeve of her tattered brown robe, and fished out a coin. It was all the money that she had at the moment.

"Here," she said gently, holding out the coin towards the Shinigami.

He arched a dark brow wordlessly at it.

"It's to thank you for helping me," Hisana said, flushing slightly. "It's all I have to offer you."

The Shinigami continued staring at her, and she felt increasingly disquieted at his silence.

"You can, er, buy yourself something," she went on, then bit her lip.

Did she have to state the obvious?

To her dismay, the Shinigami turned without saying anything and began to walk away.

Hisana got to her feet clumsily, and hurried after him.

"Please, if you won't take my money, at least let me thank you in some other way," she blurted. "You're here because of the Hollow, right?"

The male stilled, and he glanced at her sharply through narrowed eyes.

"I saw it last night," Hisana said softly. "I was hiding behind a bush not far from here. Do you want to me to show you where it was?"

She still recalled the terror she'd experienced yesterday, her pulse racing and her palms clammy as she'd curled herself into a tiny ball behind the dense foliage, praying fervently that the hideous Hollow would not notice her.

It struck Hisana then, how small she was compared to the Shinigami. The top of her head only reached his chest.

Hisana felt unclean and insignificant standing next to him. She wore a tattered robe and was barefooted, and she was sure there were streaks of dirt on her cheeks. The Shinigami, on the other hand, was dressed in clean, pristine black robes and had an expensive silk scarf curled around his neck.

She swallowed unhappily.

Regardless, there was no point dwelling about such things.

Taking his silence as assent, Hisana, after glancing at him to make sure he was following her, made her way further into the forest, her naked feet stepping on cracked twigs and leaves.

"Watch your step," she cautioned him, focusing on the forest floor for any protruding tree root that might trip her over.

Hisana felt a little foolish after her remark, however. He was a Shinigami, after all, which meant he was trained in combat. What were the chances he might lose his footing because of a mere tree root?

Before long, the two of them arrived at a small clearing within a knot of trees, with neither speaking thoughout their way here. Hisana had lived in Hanging Dog for so long that she was now accustomed to every inch of its vast forest, having familiarized herself with the many twists and turns here. Others who lived outside of her district might get lost in the forests of Hanging Dog, but not her.

She was about to open her mouth to say something when the trees rustled, and something stepped into the clearing.

Hisana let out a silent scream almost immediately, her heart in her mouth, and she took a step back rapidly.

To her surprise, her Shinigami companion placed a large but slender, long-fingered hand on her thin shoulder, steadying her. She noticed through a terrified haze that he donned fingerless gloves.

Hisana bit her lip and nearly keeled over in relief when she saw that the newcomer was another Shinigami (and not the Hollow as she had automatically assumed). She instantly felt very, very stupid for overreacting.

"Taichō!" the second Shinigami greeted boisterously. "There you are!"

Not all Shinigami looked as regal as her healer, Hisana realised. The newcomer had short brown hair and he wore a pair of flashy sunglasses that looked rather silly on him, though she would never be rude enough to say it out loud. She didn't understand why he wore them, though, especially since the sun was setting and nightfall was approaching. Could he even see properly with his sunglasses on?

"Oh, hello there!" the bespectacled Shinigami exclaimed as he noticed her. "Who's this pretty little thing here?"

"A witness."

Hisana's eyes widened as the Shinigami that had healed her spoke for the first time. His baritone voice was unruffled, rich, and lush.

"A witness?" the bespectacled Shinigami echoed. He eyed her curiously. "You saw the Hollow?"

Hisana nodded meekly. Truthfully, it stung a little that she had been coldly introduced as a mere witness, but then again, what else was she hoping for, exactly?

"When did you see it?" the bespectacled Shinigami asked intently, then caught himself and hastily added, "Oh, but where are my manners? My name is Shirogane Ginjirō. You are...?"

"Shimizu Hisana," she said gently, bowing. As she straightened her back once more, she answered uneasily, "And I saw the Hollow at this very spot yesterday."

"Did you see where it went?" Shirogane pressed on.

"No. It disappeared into the trees, and I didn't dare to pursue it. I apologize."

"Well, either way we're still at a dead end," Shirogane commented grimly. "I can't sense any remains of its spiritual energy here. What shall we do, Taichō?"

Hisana was puzzled. It seemed that the Shinigami that had saved her was a Captain-level Shinigami, which meant he was probably the cream of the crop in Seireitei. Why then, would he be assigned to the Rukon District just to deal with a mere Hollow?

Reading the silent query in her expression, Shirogane grinned at her, and said, "This ain't an average Hollow, Hisana-san. We suspect that this Hollow is able to shapeshift into the form of a regular person, which is how he's avoided detection for so long."

Hisana flushed in embarrassment. She didn't like how Shirogane could decipher her thoughts so easily.

"Well, if that's the case," she said apologetically, "I don't think any of you can catch the Hollow any time soon. It could be hiding anywhere."

Shirogane sighed. "True, that," he conceded. "We'll have to wait around and see. Do you know of any inns around here that we can stay at for the time being?"

Hisana said, slowly, "Actually... You could stay at my place if you'd like."

Sensing both of their gazes on her, she babbled hastily, "But it's a pretty small hut and it's probably nothing like what you're used to! So if you'd prefer not to stay with me, I could just bring you two to an inn—"

"No, I think your place sounds great, if you don't mind us intruding, that is," Shirogane said enthusiastically. "What say you, Taichō?"

The other Shinigami glanced at Hisana for a silent moment. She met his slate grey eyes timidly, feeling her heart pound and her face redden for reasons she could not comprehend.

Finally, he murmured quietly, "Lead the way."

* * *

Hisana had never felt more self-conscious as she opened the rickety wooden door of her hut, and allowed both men to pass.

Was she being overly naïve to allow two men into her home? After all, she was a slender and frail woman with no spiritual powers of her own to defend herself should any of the men attack her. Not to mention the two males were both Shinigami, which made them even stronger than an average soul in the Rukon District. If they wanted to murder her, they could get away with it easily, and with minimum effort required.

But if that was the case, it didn't make sense for the Captain to heal her ankle when she had been unconscious. And if either of the Shinigami had wanted her dead, they could have killed her in the relatively deserted forest without anyone witnessing their actions. The same logic remained for the possibility of rape. Again, she doubted that they would want to rape her when there were plenty of whorehouses in Hanging Dog for them to satisfy their sexual needs. The prostitutes there were far more attractive than Hisana was, with their voluptuous figures and beautifully made-up faces. Why would they want to force themselves on a plain girl like herself?

Suppressing a worried sigh, Hisana tried not to let her inner turmoil reflect in her visage as she closed the battered wooden door of her hut behind her.

Her home was tiny and dilapidated, with only a crumbly, miniature table at the side of the room, where a single candle sat on its surface. The dusty stone ground was covered in straw mats.

"I'm sorry, but I don't have any pillows or blankets," Hisana said softly, lighting the candle with a match. The flame lit up the interior of the hut with an almost eerie sepia glow. "I usually just sleep on the mat."

"Goodness," Shirogane remarked sadly as he peered around him. "This is no place for a girl to stay in."

"But all the women in the Rukon District live like this, Shirogane-san," Hisana said, smiling slightly. "I am not an exception."

The Captain-level Shinigami made no comment, but stood where he was, his silver eyes roving his dismal surroundings silently. Somehow, Hisana felt he looked terribly out of place in such a gloomy and decrepit hut. There was something very regal in the way he carried himself, as if he was of royal blood, or something, and thus deserved to stay in only the finest of lodgings.

"Not the whores," Shirogane scoffed. "The whores in the Rukon District enjoy a better life than the rest of the women out here."

That much was true, Hisana thought. The prostitutes, unlike the rest of the residents in the Rukon District, actually received money from their clients, which in turn allowed for a slightly more luxurious life. The whorehouses were generally less run-down than the residential huts in Hanging Dog.

"All women deserve to be treated with respect, Shirogane-san," Hisana rebuked gently, "regardless of their occupation."

This time, both Shirogane and the Captain were looking at her, the former appearing taken aback and the latter as unfathomable as ever.

Shirogane gave a smile.

"Yes," he agreed, after a few seconds of silence, "I suppose you're right."

Hisana blew out her match once she was sure the candle was lit. Changing the subject, she said ruefully, "I'm sorry, but I don't have food here. If any of you are hungry…"

"I'm not hungry, but I want sake," Shirogane declared. "I'll be going out to get a drink, if that's all right with you."

Hisana bowed. "Of course. Please take care."

"I'll be back soon, Taichō," Shirogane called. "I'll sniff around the town and see if we can get any leads."

Beaming at them, the bespectacled shinigami ambled out of the hut, closing the flimsy wooden door with an audible creak behind him.

It took Hisana a second to comprehend that she was now alone with the Captain-level Shinigami, who quietly lowered himself into a _seiza_ position at a corner of the straw mats.

"Um," she said hesitantly, feeling awkward. "Are you hungry? I can go out and buy some bread for you if you want."

He regarded her intently, then answered in low, rich tones.

"Don't bother."

"Oh." Hisana blinked several times at his blunt rebuttal, then smiled tentatively. "Okay."

She wondered how he could look so unaffected and almost serene while sitting on one of her straw mats, his lashes casting exotic shadows across his smooth skin.

"May I know your name?" Hisana asked shyly, sitting down, too, on her straw mat. She was startled to realise that she still did not know his identity.

He gazed at her, then spoke abruptly. "How did you injure your ankle?"

Hisana stared at him in bemusement. She had not been expecting him to ask her that, of all things.

"I fell," she laughed, with a light-heartedness she did not really feel. "Again, I'd like to thank you for helping me."

The male did not speak.

"I hope," Hisana said uncertainly, "that Shirogane-san will be all right. Hanging Dog is usually much more dangerous at night."

The Captain watched her wordlessly.

His hair was longer than hers, she observed. An irrational part of her longed to dip her dainty fingers into his raven mane, and to feel the silken strands against her skin...

It was then when she registered the cold air of the night seeping through the gaps in the walls of her hut, and Hisana found herself shivering. Her frayed brown robe served as little protection against the harsh elements of the night.

"I am so sorry," she said regretfully to the Shinigami. She drew the lit candle closer towards him. "You must be cold. I'm afraid I don't have a blanket for you." Letting out a sigh, she added, "Perhaps I should have arranged for the both of you to stay in an inn, after all. I think it might be warmer there. I'm really sorry to put you through this."

"And yet," he observed evenly, "you yourself suffer every night."

"Oh, but I'm used to this," Hisana said gently.

"What makes you think, then, that a Shinigami is not used to hardship?" he inquired emotionessly.

Hisana started. "I didn't mean to offend you," she said beseechingly. "I am not saying that you are unaccustomed to hardship. What I mean is, even if you are used to it, it would still be better to avoid suffering from the cold."

"The same can be said for yourself, then."

Hisana was momentarily speechless.

Before she could find something to say in response to his words, however, he gracefully pulled his windflower silk scarf away from the dignified column of his neck and carelessly tossed the unravelling, lengthy material towards her with deft, fluid movements.

She caught it clumsily, her body stiff with shock. The silk was soft in her hands, and wonderfully warm, probably from the remnants of the male's own body heat.

The girl had to fight back the childish urge to bury her face in the light windflower silk.

"Why—?" Hisana's lips parted and trembled in astonishment.

"I don't want it," he said matter-of-factly, and his sooty lashes fanned out against his cheekbones as he closed his eyes disinterestedly.

"But—but I am your host, so how can I possibly—"

His lashes lifted and he silenced her with a piercing, level look. She scrunched her lips together apprehensively.

And yet, Hisana could detect a warmth blossoming within her chest that had absolutely nothing to do with his scarf.

Her healer... was truly a kind-hearted person.

Mustering up her courage, Hisana shuffled over to where the Shinigami sat, and, on a completely reckless whim, gently bundled the windflower silk scarf around both of them. The scarf was long enough for her to wind it around their necks multiple times. Hisana had never been this close to a man before, and the sensation was dizzying. She could feel his warmth enveloping her slight frame, his spiritual pressure cloaking both of them comfortably.

He turned his raven head towards her slowly and she saw then that his grey eyes had widened a fraction at her ministrations, but she forced herself to ignore his visible surprise, and instead smiled at him.

She whispered, "Thank you."

* * *

 _:tbc:_

* * *

 **A/N:** This fic will consist of drabbles between Byakuya and Hisana. Some of it will be set in random AUs that I created myself, and others will be set in the canonical universe of Bleach. This first chapter is my interpretation of how Hisana first met Byakuya in the Bleach universe that we all know. The following chapters will contain a steady continuation to the events of the first chapter, but they will not necessarily be published in a chronological order. Like I said, I might insert random chapters that are set in an utterly different verse from this chapter, but we'll see! :)


	2. Chapter 2: The Proposal — Part I

**Verse:** 'Half-Canon'.

* * *

Shimizu Hisana lay on the straw mat within her small hut, unable to move.

She had definitely overexerted herself this time when she had been searching for her sister. She'd roamed the streets of Hanging Dog for days on end, walking until the soles of her feet bled and until her aching muscles had screamed at her to stop.

After a fruitless hunt, a dejected and desolate Hisana had finally returned to her hut, feeling tears bubbling under her lids.

She'd collapsed on her straw mat, only to later realise that her condition was worse than she'd thought. Her skin blazed and she felt terribly cold and hot at the same time; the girl could only lie there helplessly, panting at her discomfort. Vaguely she knew that she was running a fever, and she was desperate to cover herself with something, only she did not own any pillows or blankets to help ease her distress. Oh, why did she have to give all of _his_ gifts away? Her head spun, and her vision blurred like rippling water. She drifted between consciousness and slumber on the straw mat for what felt like hours or even days—she had no way of knowing.

At one point of time throughout her delirious haze, Hisana recalled feeling large, gentle hands touching her burning forehead, but she had dismissed it as her imagination. She lived alone, after all, so the sensation was improbable unless she had an uninvited visitor.

She also remembered staring into calm slate grey eyes, and a part of her was darkly amused that during the most agonizing moments of her illness, she'd fantasized about her lover.

Soon, her vision turned black, and she knew no more.

When Hisana lifted her lids blearily again, it seemed like an eternity had passed.

It took her a while to even remember her own name, and to slowly gather her thoughts. As she became increasingly lucid, she registered a wondrous warmth enveloping her body, a sensation so foreign that her purple eyes flew open fully in shock.

She was in a room she had never been in before. The furnishings were expensive and opulent, with ornate golden leaves adorning the folding screens and mesmerizing plum blossoms illustrated on the fusuma sliding panels. There were a few scrolls hanging on the wall, displaying excellently crafted works of calligraphy.

She lay on a futon—a futon! When was the last time, if ever, that she had enjoyed the luxury of a futon?—beneath thick blankets. It felt like heaven compared to the hard straw mats that she slept on every night. She even had a soft pillow under her head.

A young girl dressed in dark brown garments sat by Hisana's bedside, dabbing her forehead with a cold wet towel.

"Oh, you're awake, Miss," the girl said, her face brightening. "This is wonderful! Your fever has finally broken."

"Who are you?" Hisana whispered. "And where am I?"

The girl smiled kindly. "My name is Akari. And you're in the Kuchiki Manor, Miss."

 _What?_

She was in the Kuchiki Manor? Did that mean... Hisana had not imagined the sight of those entrancing grey eyes in the midst of her fever?

If she was in his manor, did that mean she was in Seireitei?! Hisana had never left Hanging Dog before in the entirety of her life, so the mere idea that she was now in a completely foreign place terrified her.

"Byakuya-sama watched over you all night," Akari continued, still dabbing at Hisana's clammy forehead. "The physician just left. You've been really sick, Miss."

Hisana tried to sit up from her futon, but Akari dropped the towel and gripped her shoulders in alarm.

"Miss, you're not well yet!" Akari exclaimed in dismay. "You need to lie down!"

"Please," Hisana implored weakly. "I need to go home—"

"What is going on?"

Both Hisana and Akari stiffened at the deep, sharp baritone voice.

Hisana lifted her head and her stomach tightened when she saw that Kuchiki Byakuya had slid open one of the sliding doors and soundlessly entered the room. Instead of the light windflower silk scarf and the black robes that she was used to seeing him in, he wore a white silk haori and pale blue robes. His silvery eyes were narrowed with displeasure.

"Byakuya-sama," Akari said, rising to her feet and bowing.

He glanced carelessly to the servant girl. "You are dismissed."

"Understood, Byakuya-sama."

With her back still bowed, Akari respectfully retreated from the lavish room.

Hisana bit her lip, her hands fisting her blankets. Now that she and Byakuya were alone together, she couldn't help but feel extremely awkward, her heart pounding.

Yet at the same time, despite her fatigue from her fever, the familiar sight of him made her skin tingle with excitement.

The woman watched as he gracefully made his way to her bedside and lowered himself to a seated position at the same spot where Akari had, too, been sitting at mere moments ago, then deftly picked up the damp towel the servant girl had left inside a bowl of water.

"How are you feeling?" he queried levelly.

"I'm fine, Byakuya-sama," Hisana said softly. She blinked tiredly as he dabbed her ashen face gently with the towel in the same way that Akari had done. It was strange; Hisana had never envisioned Byakuya playing the role of a caregiver or a nurse—he had always been more of a soldier and a commanding figure to her. "You... You brought me here."

He regarded her inscrutably. "So I did."

"People are going to talk," Hisana said hoarsely. "You, the Head of the household, bringing a girl from the Rukon District here... They're going to misunderstand."

"And what, exactly, would the misunderstanding be?" Byakuya inquired calmly.

Hisana flushed. "You know what, Byakuya-sama," Hisana protested. "They'll think that we're... We're—"

"Lovers?" he said neutrally.

Hisana's flush deepened. "Yes."

"And would they be wrong?"

"No, but—but I thought we meant to keep our... relationship private!"

Byakuya ceased dabbing her forehead, and murmured, "We never made such an agreement."

Hisana froze under the sheets.

He was right. They'd never made any such agreement; she'd always just assumed that their affair was a covert one, considering the large gap in social status between the both of them. He was a nobleman, and she a filthy commoner from the slums. Their meetings were always conducted in Hanging Dog—she had no control over the time or day at which they happened, for she never knew when he would come and visit her in her home, nor was she ever given notice. Sometimes he would come visit her a fortnight since his previous visit; sometimes he would see her a mere few days after. Hisana never knew what to expect, and she never felt resentful. She was only a lowly peasant girl, after all, while her lover—if she even dared to call him that out loud—was the Head of the Kuchiki Clan and the Captain of the Sixth Division in the Gotei Thirteen. He had a long list of duties to fulfill and countless subordinates that relied on his leadership, and Hisana knew they needed him more than she did.

No, she needed him, too, in the way a woman longed for the man she loved. But her loss was inconsequential compared to the likes of the Noble House and a Division in the Gotei Thirteen. Hisana knew she should have ended things with him long ago, for they shared no plausible future ahead of them. One day he would marry a noblewoman, and she would be tossed aside to spend the rest of her days in heart-wrenching sorrow. It was better to cut off all ties now before she became more and more emotionally invested in their relationship.

But it was too late. Hisana was already so in love with him that it was far too late to back off now. If being with him meant spending the rest of her life as the other woman he secretly met in the Rukon District, she would take it, her morality be damned.

"Even so," Hisana said wanly, "It would ruin your reputation if you were publicly associated with me, Byakuya-sama."

Noiselessly, he lifted her thin hand from where it rested on the mattress, and kissed the slant of her diminutive knuckles, causing her to shiver with pleasure.

"This is only just the beginning, however," he responded quietly.

Hisana stared at him. "What do you mean?"

His expression was bland, and he spoke in a blunt, matter-of-fact tone.

"You will not be returning to Hanging Dog."

Hisana inhaled, then asked hesitantly, "Are you offering me employment here?"

He arched an ebony brow.

"To work for the Kuchiki House, I mean," Hisana elaborated. Her pulse raced. If she could work in the Kuchiki Manor, then she would be able to see her lover almost everyday. It felt too good to be true, and it probably was. Everything came at a price, for that would mean further distancing herself from her missing sister. "I suppose I can do the housework with the other servants, but I'm not sure—"

"Housework is assigned to the servants, and not to the mistress of the household, Hisana," Byakuya said coolly. His slate grey eyes flashed at her. "Do you understand?"

Hisana met his hard gaze with bewilderment. "I—I... The mistress? Wouldn't that person be Byakuya-sama's... wife?"

Just the mere possibility made her belly churn with jealousy. Perhaps working in the Manor was a bad idea, after all. She would have to face Byakuya's future wife almost daily, and it would torment her to no end.

"Indeed," Byakuya replied mildly. "If you wish to remain by my side, those are the shoes I would like you to fill."

Hisana turned as rigid as stone on the futon, and she stared uncomprehendingly at him, her lips parted in shock.

It couldn't be. There was no way he was suggesting what she thought he was suggesting.

" _Byakuya-sama_...?"

* * *

 _:tbc:_

* * *

 **A/N:** This is set some time in the future after the first chapter. It's not a direct sequel to the first chapter, but it is a sequel. Thanks for reading, the few of you who reviewed. :) I know I should probably be updating my other FanFiction account but here I am, working on a fic that is my guilty pleasure even though almost nobody really reads this.


	3. Chapter 3: The Gift

**A/N:** This chapter is a direct sequel to the first chapter. Thank you for reading and reviewing! I appreciate your comments more than you guys can imagine. :)

 **Verse:** 'Half-Canon'.

* * *

She had awoken the next day from where she lay on the straw mat to find herself alone, with the Captain's overlong scarf wrapped snugly around her neck.

Hisana supposed she must have fallen asleep while sitting next to him yesterday. His silent presence had been soothing and she had felt contented, warm, and tranquil with both his windflower silk scarf and his spiritual pressure cocooning her body. Eventually, she had lost herself in the lull of the moment and had nodded off, her head resting on the hardness of his broad shoulder.

She didn't recall anything after that.

Hisana got to her feet now when she noticed a scrap of paper lying on the table inside her hut.

Scribbled words in ink greeted her vision as she picked it up. The message was signed off by Shirogane-san.

The note explained to her that they had left her hut and tracked down the Hollow in the middle of last night, and that they had completed their mission by obliterating the Hollow. Shirogane had thanked her for taking them in yesterday, before adding that she shouldn't be so trusting towards other strangers in the future, and had advised Hisana never to invite anyone who was relatively unknown to her into her home again. He had wished her well, then signed the note off with his name.

Hisana stared at the note, and was stunned to feel miserable tears gathering at the back of her throat.

They were gone.

The Captain was gone, and she'd most likely never see him again.

She was so naïve. She'd met him for only a few hours, yet she had allowed herself to become so captivated by him. The only thing she had left of his existence was his beautiful silver-colored scarf, which she clung to desperately, praying that his tantalizing scent would never vanish from the silk.

And Hisana still didn't know his name.

She didn't know how long she stood there, clutching the note as tears spilled down her pale cheeks.

The next two months had been painful. Winter approached, and the already glacial weather became near unbearable. Hisana spent her days wandering the streets of Hanging Dog, trying to cope with the freezing cold weather and the bitter, lonely emptiness in her chest. Most other residents chose to stay in their huts during the winter, for they did not have sandals and it was agonizing—not to mention dangerous—to walk on the icy ground without any footwear on. But Hisana was relentless in her search for her younger sister, and though she left her hut less frequently now, she continued venturing the paths of Hanging Dog now and then in hopes that she might find her missing sister.

She kept herself bundled in the Captain's scarf most of the time, as the extremely long, flowing silk shielded her to a certain extent from the bleak elements of the winter, albeit the fabric was rather thin. As for her feet, she had put on thick socks to help alleviate her discomfort. They were not sandals, but they were still better than nothing. Nevertheless, she had no choice but to cut short her trips outside of her hut for fear of suffering from a case of frostbites. Not requiring much food was a good thing, since it helped lessen her needs in this unforgiving place.

And then one day, while she was out and about the streets of Hanging Dog, she spotted a familiar figure, his sunglasses glinting under the sunlight.

"Shirogane-san!" Hisana called in delight.

The Shinigami in question swung around, his black robes billowing, and his face broke into a wide grin as recognization crossed his countenance.

"Hisana-san!" Shirogane greeted. "Long time no see!"

"What are you doing here?" Hisana asked, tendrils of fog escaping her lips as she spoke.

"I'm just doing a routine patrol of a few districts," Shirogane explained. His brow furrowed. "Hisana-san, why are you even wandering out here? It's freezing. You're going to get sick."

"I'll be fine," Hisana said dismissively. "It's great seeing you, Shirogane-san. Since you're here, could you pass your Taichō a few things for me?"

The Shinigami blinked bemusedly. "Oh. Sure. What is it?"

She tugged off the long, expensive windflower silk scarf from around her neck, then gathered and folded the lengthy material into small squares, wincing as the frosty air assaulted her vulnerable skin without the protection of her scarf. Then, she handed the folded scarf to Shirogane, along with a small package that had been tucked under her skinny arm.

"Hisana-san, you should keep the scarf," Shirogane said in alarm. "You're going to freeze to death without it."

"I can tell that this scarf is invaluable," Hisana said softly, despite the stricken pang in her heart at parting with the only reminder she had left of the mysterious Captain. "I don't think I should keep it any longer."

"Trust me," Shirogane told her gravely. "If Taichō chose to entrust something that important in your care, there had to be an intention behind it. And... Hello, what's this?" He held up and peered at the paper package she had passed to him.

"A loaf of bread," Hisana revealed. "It's to thank him for his kindness. Because of his generosity, my ankle is healed and I have been reasonably warm for the past two months."

"Hisana-san..." Shirogane touched her shoulder kindly. "It's very sweet of you, but trust me when I say that none of us ever go hungry in Seireitei, especially not Taichō. You need the bread more than we do."

Hisana shook her head, smiling gently. "I do not possess much spiritual energy, so I actually don't need a lot of food."

"Maybe not a lot, but you still need some food," Shirogane refuted. "No offense, Hisana-san, but you're pretty underweight. Some nutrition would be good for you."

"Please, Shirogane-san." Hisana gazed at him imploringly. "I cannot live my life knowing I owe someone a debt. Please, help me ease my burden."

He hesitated, then emitted a low groan. "If you put it like that…"

She bowed deeply. "Thank you."

"Then at least promise me you'll go back to your hut now," Shirogane prompted. "It's way too cold for you to be out here."

Hisana nodded meekly. "Yes. Once again, thank you. It's wonderful seeing you again."

He nodded. "You, too."

The Shinigami, still holding the parcel and the scarf, watched as the small woman walked away, the frosty winds of the winter season tugging at the black strands of her hair. Pink spots had materialized on her cheeks from the cold.

She was very pretty, he thought, but not in the typical fashion that he had become accustomed to with most women. Take Matsumoto Rangiku, for instance. She was tall, willowy, and curvaceous, with large breasts that always threatened to spill out of her robes. Matsumoto was sexy and confident—the embodiment of a male's wet dream.

Shimizu Hisana, however, was petite and slim. She didn't possess beauty that was was bold or flamboyant like Matsumoto, nor was she as assertive as the latter—and yet, there was still something enchanting about her delicate, demure presence. The first time Shirogane had seen her, he had been struck by her large, sad violet eyes, which contradicted the gentle smile on her lips. She looked ethereal and very breakable. Her gracious, compassionate, and almost selfless nature only made her more alluring.

Shirogane was sure he was not the only one who had been drawn to her unusual beauty. Kuchiki Taichō, despite showing little emotion or insight to his private thoughts, had actually left his light windflower silk scarf—the precious heirloom belonging to the Kuchiki Clan—with a commoner in the Rukon District. Of course, the Sixth Division Captain could easily have the master weaver Tsujishirō Kuroemon III weave another scarf for him as a replacement, but the fact of the matter remained that Byakuya had actually entrusted such an expensive item to a commoner for a few months. Shirogane could only think of one reason, and it baffled him.

Kuchiki Byakuya was rarely, if ever, swayed by a woman's charm; Seireitei was filled with hundreds of beauteous, seductive females, which the nobleman ignored. Shirogan had always suspected that Byakuya had highly sophisticated tastes when it came to women, which meant he only favored noblewomen of a similar standing with himself. There had been rumors that during his adolescence he'd once shared an affair with Shihōin Yoruichi, the former Head of the Shihōin Clan, and that a few ladies from other noble families had also visited his bed, but he'd never showed an inclination to marry any of them, even though Shirogane heard that the Kuchiki Elders had been urging him to marry soon so that he could produce an heir. So the mere idea that Kuchiki Taichō might be intrigued by a peasant from Hanging Dog—a person of the lowest ranking in the entire hierarchy within Soul Society—was mind-boggling. Shirogane had always figured that should the Captain ever lower his standards, it would be to a common female Shinigami at the very least.

It seemed he might have been wrong.

But then again, Shirogane might also be overthinking the situation, though he doubted it.

Glancing down at the scarf and the paper package in his hands, he sighed.

It appeared he would be making quite an interesting report to Taichō today.

* * *

Three uneventful days had passed since Hisana had crossed paths with Shirogane.

She didn't see him again.

Hisana had been half-asleep on her straw mat, her slender body curled up tightly in an attempt to combat the cold, when she heard it.

A soft rap on the door of her hut.

Her violet eyes flew open, and she was instantly fully awake.

She didn't remember ever getting a visitor before, save for the two Shinigami whom she had invited to her home a few months ago. In the Rukon District, having uninvited visitors were usually a bad sign—it probably meant there were intruders who wanted to rob her of her food and other belongings. Hisana swallowed. She could feel trepidation and discomfort stabbing the inside of her belly. Her skinny hands gripped the hem of her tattered robes so desperately that her knuckles turned white.

She didn't have much for anyone to steal, anyway. All they could take were her candles, which helped keep her warm, and the few tattered clothes that she owned. At the moment, there was no food in her home, since she had handed to Shirogane a loaf of bread, which was all she had gotten her hands on for the past week.

Another quiet rap came on the door.

Hisana frowned. The wooden door was flimsy and battered; if an intruder wanted to break in, they could do so easily. So why would they bother to knock on the door instead of just forcing it open and barging in?

A tense second ticked by.

The woman got to her socked feet unsteadily, and slowly approached her door with wary steps, all the while hugging herself against the cold.

Despite fervently telling herself that she was going to regret her decision, curiosity eventually overcame her and Hisana, upon taking a deep, nervous breath, pushed her door open with shaky hands. She shivered as the icy air outside rushed into her hut, and she hugged herself tighter.

An unknown man stood there, dressed in long traditional black robes with an immaculate white collar around his neck. His attire looked far too formal and pristine for him to possibly be a resident of the Rukon District, at least not in Hanging Dog.

Hisana noticed that he was carrying two packages that were wrapped in a pale blue and black cloth respectively.

"Is your name Shimizu Hisana?" the man questioned without preamble.

Hisana blinked rapidly. "I—yes."

"These are for you."

The man held out the wrapped packages towards her, and the stunned girl took both of them from him hesitantly, unsure if she should refuse him. She stared at the packages quizzically, her fingers gripping the hard surface of their contents—whatever they were—within the elaborately embroidered silk.

"Um, excuse me," Hisana piped up weakly. "But why are you giving this to me?"

The man gave her an appraising look, then said, "This is from Byakuya-sama."

"Byakuya-sama?" Hisana echoed, bewildered.

"Lord Kuchiki Byakuya of the Kuchiki Clan," the man replied, looking somewhat annoyed. "Do you not know whom you met two months ago?"

It was then when it hit Hisana. She took a step back, her mouth falling open.

The Captain. The mystery Captain. That was his name.

"I don't understand," Hisana whispered. "Isn't he a Captain? Why—"

"Byakuya-sama is the Captain of the Sixth Division of the Gotei Thirteen, and the Head of one of the Four Noble Houses in Seireitei," the man cut her off flatly. "You would do well to remember that, child."

Hisana's lavender eyes turned as wide as saucers, and she paled.

She'd understood before that there was a gap in status between herself and the Captain, but she had never realised just how tremendous that gap was, not until today. If this was true—if he was really the Head of a prestigious noble family—then she was truly nothing compared to him. She wasn't a Shinigami, not even a lowly ranked one. She didn't live in Seireitei. She lived in one of the worst districts, too, where everyone wore rags and walked about barefoot. Not that it would change things if she resided in the less decrepit districts; she was still way too far beneath Kuchiki Byakuya. Forget the Rukon District—even within Seireitei, his status was above the vast majority of its residents. He was the Captain of a Division, which already made him an incredibly high-ranking Shinigami, and his noble birth only put him on an even higher pedestal.

She chewed the inside of her cheek as she remembered what Shirogane had said.

 _"Trust me when I say that none of us ever go hungry in Seireitei, especially not Taichō."_

Of course.

Hisana felt like an utter idiot. She'd actually given Kuchiki Byakuya a loaf of bread. The Captain, who was used to the finest and most sumptuous of meals, had received a cold, soggy loaf of bread from a peasant of the Rukon District!

Her cheeks burned in shame.

She'd invited a nobleman to her pathetic, run-down home, had even fancied herself a hostess.

She was a damned fool.

Hisana barely registered as the man—who was probably a servant under the Kuchiki Clan, she vaguely surmised—bowed to her in curt farewell, before turning and vanishing in a blur of movement by executing the technique known as Flash Step.

He was gone.

Once she had regained her composure, the woman shut the door of her hut with a mortified groan. She put down the package encased in black silk on the table and diverted her attention to the blue-colored one first, then undid the knot that kept the latter together.

The blue silk parted to reveal a neatly folded pink fabric inside.

Hisana unraveled the pink fabric curiously, and gaped when she saw that it was a beautiful silk haori. She hesitated for a brief second, then tugged the sleeves of the haori over her petite shoulders. The haori was long, so long that it reached her feet, and she sighed in contentment at the blissful warmth the haori provided, something she had not experienced since the harsh winter had commenced.

Feeling increasingly perplexed now, Hisana peeled the blue silk further away, and saw that there was also an ornate, polished wooden box inside.

She lifted the lid, and her breath caught.

It was a pair of straw sandals.

Hisana's eyes swam with tears. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Sandals were a luxury that no citizen in Hanging Dog could afford, and Kuchiki Byakuya had gifted her a pair for some reason that she could not understand.

Was there no end to his kindness?

Extremely tentative now, Hisana turned to the second package enveloped in black silk, and she slowly undid the knot, a lump in her throat.

A set of pretty lacquered wooden stacking boxes were revealed beneath the ebony silk, and she reluctantly pried open the lid, her thin fingers trembling.

A gasp tore from her lips.

It was a bento—of sorts.

The first box contained hot sweet-smelling rice, the second egg rolls, and the third a grilled mackerel. Hisana's mouth unconsciously watered. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten rice or meat. Here in Hanging Dog, one's diet consisted exclusively of either bread or fruit. Even fruit was considered a rare delicacy, especially watermelons or persimmons.

Hisana stared disbelievingly at her bento, her heart pounding quickly in her chest.

How was she supposed to ever repay him for his generosity?

A part of her was tempted not to touch any of his gifts—though she already had on his haori—so that she wouldn't owe him anything, but her stomach ached with hunger at the sight of the plump, juicy rice and scrumptious-looking meat. The food would most definitely spoil if she did not touch them.

Hisana cautiously picked up a pair of chopsticks from between the folds of the black silk, and clasped her little hands together.

She whispered into the silence of the hut.

"Itadakimasu... Byakuya-sama."

* * *

 _:tbc:_


	4. Chapter 4: The Voyeur

**A/N:** This is a sequel, also in the same verse from the previous three chapters. It's held some time in the future after the second chapter. I like to skip and explore the timeline here and there because I think it's fun, haha. (I'm seriously just writing this fic out of self-indulgence, lol.) Btw, yes, this chapter is pretty dirty. I realised that even though I've written plenty of ByaHisa before, I've never explored their sex life much.

Thank you for reviewing!

 **Verse:** 'Half-Canon'.

* * *

Akari, who had been Lady Kuchiki Hisana's handmaiden for over a few months now, crept across the tatami floors within the manor, her breathing unsteady but hushed. Slivers of moonlight cut through the shadowy dimness of the night, and her eyes darted frantically about the endless unrevealing corridors for any hint of Mako.

Mako was the stray tortoiseshell cat that frequently roamed the gardens by the Kuchiki Manor. Acutely aware of the household's low tolerance for stray animals, particularly felines, Akari had taken to sneaking out of the servants' quarters almost every night to feed it pieces of leftover bread and to pet it. She'd usually play with Mako by the _engawa_ of the Manor, but this time, the naughty cat had slunk past her dumbfounded hands and bolted into the palatial residence itself through the minute gap of the _shōji_ doors that she'd left open.

This was disastrous. If anyone found the cat, Akari would be in trouble. Lord Kuchiki detested felines, a fact that had been deeply ingrained in the entire household. He had retired with the Lady for the night a few hours ago, but if a servant was roused awake by the feline intruder, they'd probably inform the Lord and everything would go south from there. She could be dismissed from employment for letting in a stray animal; Lord Kuchiki was notorious for his autocracy.

And what would happen to Mako? He would be banished from the grounds belonging to the Kuchiki Manor, maybe even culled. The mere thought chilled Akari's blood.

Darn it. Mako was still nowhere to be seen. Akari had searched everywhere in the monumental residence, except…

She winced. She hadn't yet ventured into the private quarters of the Lord and Lady.

Akari didn't usually go there at night. She'd report there to attend to Lady Kuchiki for the majority of the day, and then depart in the evening after dinner, typically when Lord Kuchiki had returned from the Sixth Division. It was an unspoken rule that servants were not allowed to disturb the couple when they were together, not unless a servant was summoned.

But if Mako had actually gone there...

Akari felt sick. It was one thing for the servants to be awoken by Mako.

It was another for Lord Kuchiki to be awoken himself.

He might not even be asleep. While Lady Kuchiki usually retired early, Lord Kuchiki frequently spent the night practising his calligraphy, or reviewing necessary paperwork related to the Sixth Division, or, God forbid, taking night walks at the gardens. How he hadn't yet stumbled across Mako completely baffled her.

But right now, it didn't look like Akari had a choice. If Lord Kuchiki found Mako, all hell would break loose. She had to find the elusive cat herself before he did, then make a stealthy run for it. It was risky, but she'd have to do it, risks be damned.

Within minutes, Akari had crossed the bend leading to the private quarters. Her heart was pounding so rapidly in her chest that she wondered if the entire household could hear it. It sounded deafening against the muted hush of the night.

Wait. What was—?

Akari frowned. She'd heard something soft but definite, like a breathy whisper. The servant girl willed herself to take a few steps forward on the tatami flooring, peering blearily at the closed _shōji_ doors ahead, and then cringed when her foot elicited an audible _creak_ in the wood.

However, the creak was drowned out by the sound again, and Akari froze when she realised it was a moan.

Was that...

The moan came again, extraordinarily high-pitched and breathless, and Akari realised with a shocking jolt that it belonged to Lady Kuchiki.

It almost didn't sound like her. The idea of demure, gentle Lady Kuchiki making that wanton sound, so stricken with ecstasy and abandon, made Akari's jaw drop. She would have thought she was imagining the sounds had Lady Kuchiki not moaned again—and again.

She should go. Akari had no right to stay here, encroaching on the couple's privacy. If she thought she'd be in trouble regarding Mako, well, it would be nothing compared to the trouble if she was found standing here like a voyeur.

She was about to move away when Lady Kuchiki's almost unrecognizable voice slurred weakly but clearly.

"Byakuya-sama..." Another soft moan. "Don't lick down there, it's dirty— _ahhh_ …"

Lady Kuchiki sighed in clear pleasure.

There was a rich, deep murmur from the room, and Akari registered Lord Kuchiki's voice at once.

Her entire face was flushed red now. This was so intimate, so private... so illicit. It was really difficult to reconcile delicate, demure Lady Kuchiki, with her innocent large doe eyes and shy mien, and regally beautiful but austere Lord Kuchiki with what she was hearing right now.

Oh, she was aware Lord Kuchiki was no saint, of course. He'd had the occasional lover before he'd met the Lady, rare as they had been. But Akari had always known to steer clear whenever a noblewoman, beautiful, red-lipped and seductive, appeared at the _genkan_ of the estate, and so she hadn't encountered anything like this.

She'd tacitly done the same after he'd unexpectedly wedded a commoner girl two months ago, having noticed the telltale shades of love bites on the new Lady's creamy skin every now and then.

But now—oh, dear Lord, why couldn't she walk away?

Lady Kuchiki's unbridled moaning was rising swiftly in pitch and volume now; if Akari didn't know better, she'd think the Lady was in great pain.

But oh, no. It was the opposite. Even without witnessing the scene, Akari knew what was happening, judging by the Lady's wording just now. She could imagine it, despite herself: Lord Kuchiki's proud raven head lowered between his lover's thighs.

As if right on cue, Lady Kuchiki spoke again, her soprano voice delirious and desperate.

"Byakuya-sama—! No, I can't hold on any.…"

Another rich, low murmur followed, a silky tone of male encouragement.

Akari's cheeks flamed.

"No, no— _ahhhhh_!" the Lady's moan suddenly gave away into a high-pitched, thin, broken scream of bliss, and Akari knew she had reached orgasm.

Akari's palms were sweating now, her cheeks on fire. She had just heard Lady Kuchiki Hisana orgasm. Never in a million years had she dreamt she'd hear such a thing. It wasn't surprising no one in the household had ever heard this; the private quarters were located far away from the servants' quarters.

And it wasn't over yet, because the next thing Akari heard was:

"No, Byakuya-sama, please don't suck so hard, I just came— _no_ , _ahh—_ …"

Lady Kuchiki sounded as if she was in the throes of excruciating ecstasy. Her voice was so choked she couldn't even moan fully, but was emitting strangled noises at the back of her throat.

Oh, God. Lord Kuchiki had evidently yet to cease his... ministrations.

 _I should go_ , Akari told herself, but it was like she was rooted to the spot.

Almost half a minute went by with Lady Kuchiki whimpering, and then, she cried out, "I'm— _ahh_ —going to...!"

Her voice rose into a shrill unmistakable cry as she reached orgasm the second time that night, this time more intense and euphoric than the first one, judging by how the tortured scream dragged out longer.

And then silence.

Akari didn't know whether to be aroused or ashamed. Probably both. Whichever it was, she couldn't deny Lord Kuchiki's prowess in bed. It wasn't fair, she thought, that a male could be so beautiful yet so skilled in so many regards.

A rustle ensued, and there were faint noises of flesh against flesh, and she could surmise from the audible slight wetness in the noise that they were kissing now.

She heard the familiar lush baritone murmur again, and then Lady Kuchiki's embarrassed hoarse voice say, "I'm so sorry, Byakuya-sama, I made a mess... I— _oh_..."

Akari couldn't believe it. She couldn't. They were still at it? She heard another louder rustle, like bodies shifting on the floor, then Lady Kuchiki crying out.

"Byakuya-sama, you are not going to lick me from there...?"

She was cut off by her own moan, and a male chuckle.

Akari was dying of morbid curiosity. Lick her from where?

"Byakuya-sama..." Lady Kuchiki moaned again. She sounded strangely muffled this time, like her mouth was pressed against something. "You can't… It's really dirty behind..."

And then it hit Akari. She nearly keeled over from shock.

Behind, like… by her rear end? Was Lady Kuchiki turned over, her face in her pillow?

Akari wondered if she was dreaming. Straight-laced Kuchiki Byakuya, pristine and elegant and flawless, was conducting such a lewd act. Surely this couldn't be real.

Yet it seemed to be real, considering the high-pitched moaning coming from his wife. She certainly enjoyed his—licking, despite her protests…

" _Ahh_ … No, don't—not there— _ahhhh_ …"

The Lady exhaled, then moaned again. She got louder and louder, mewling uninhibitedly, and Akari knew what was coming next.

"Please, don't stop..." the Lady implored, sounding intoxicated and dazed. "I'm close…"

Whatever madness had seized Akari vanished. She turned to bolt, her heart racing as she heard Lady Kuchiki cry out her third orgasm.

" _Byakuya-sama..._ "

* * *

In the end, Akari hadn't found Mako. She'd spent a sleepless night lying in her futon, staring holes into the dark ceiling, ignoring the mild snoring from the other servants sharing the room with her. How was she supposed to face Lady Kuchiki ever again? How was she supposed to look at the diffident, gentle female, her characteristic smile so chaste and unassuming, and not think of what she'd heard?

It seemed like hours before she'd finally dropped off to sleep, and it felt like a mere minute before she was shaken awake again.

"Akari!" Chiyo, another one of Lady Kuchiki's handmaidens, hissed in her ear. "You have to get up now! Lord Kuchiki called a meeting for all of the household staff to gather!"

A sharp terror pierced through her grogginess at once, and Akari sat up. Oh no. Had they found Mako, the cat?

She squinted. The room was still dark, a sign that they were at the cusp of dawn. Normally, Akari wasn't required to wake so early, since Lady Kuchiki usually only awoke a few hours after that. On the contrary, Lord Kuchiki would awaken at this time to head for the Sixth Division.

Yet he'd called a meeting for all the servants to assemble today.

They must have found Mako, and were about to interrogate who had allowed the cat into the Kuchiki Manor.

Great. She had to come clean. Petrified as she was, Akari wasn't about to let anyone get blamed for her actions.

She hurried into the customary brown garments that most of the servants wore, which consisted of a similar-colored _kosode_ and _hakama_ , and tied her dark hair back in a low ponytail with a ribbon. Then she hastened out of the servants' quarters in tandem with her fellow associates, her sandalled footsteps wobbly with apprehension.

Shortly after, she reached the main lounge in the Manor, where all the servants, clad in similar brown garments, were gathered around the Head of the House, who was positioned at the front of the room, the ceremonial shrine behind him. Lady Kuchiki was nowhere in sight—she was most likely still asleep.

He stood there quietly, wearing the white haori that signalled his Captaincy of the Sixth Division, coupled with his _shihakushō_ as well as the silver-white windflower silk scarf that Akari knew so well. Beside Lord Kuchiki was Seike Nobutsune, the oldest and the Head of all the servants under the Kuchiki House. He was easily distinguished by his round glasses and snow-white hair.

As soon as she stepped into the lounge, Lord Kuchiki's slate grey eyes roved silently towards her. Her pulse stuttered in her veins at the distinct coldness in his expression, but before she could respond, he had glanced away calmly, as if she was no more than an ant he had happened to notice.

The lounge was silent, the atmosphere fraught with tension and an underlying current of fear. It was no secret that the servants in the household were greatly intimidated by their Lord. He was not unkind, but his reign was unwaveringly just and ruthless. Miscreants were not regarded mercifully.

Kuchiki Byakuya steadily met the curious but cowed gazes of his attendants, and then spoke, in the cultured, rich baritone voice Akari had heard last night.

She bit the inside of her cheek, not wanting to think of the more carnal and sensuous undertone that voice had taken then. It was staggering to look at him, unruffled and refined, and not realise that he could be a deviant in ways no one would ever be privy to.

"From now on," he said coolly, addressing the occupants of the lounge, "unless I have indicated otherwise, you are expressly forbidden to visit Hisana and my quarters each evening after dinner. Violation of this rule will result in instant termination of your employment. Have I made myself clear?"

Akari wanted to pass out. He knew.

 _He knew._

And he was warning her—clearly out of displeasure—that he wanted no repeat of the night before.

The household exchanged subtly confused looks, but it was apparent Lord Kuchiki expected an answer, and they bowed their heads obsequiously, chorusing as one.

"Understood, Byakuya-sama."

Akari prayed fervently that that was it, but it seemed fate was not on her side.

"Itō Akari-san." Seike had stepped forward, and he was looking straight at her. To her horror, she saw that he had lifted a pet carrier originally placed behind him from the tatami floor, and a singular furry paw stuck out of the gaps in the tiny door. "This is yours, I believe."

Akari wanted to curl up and die right there as everyone gawked at her, Chiyo included. The gig was up. Lord Kuchiki had known all along.

"I see you found Mako..." she said weakly, walking towards the carrier.

"Pets are not allowed on the premises, Itō-san," Seike chided gently, handing her the carrier. Mako meowed piteously. "This creature has been responsible for consuming the treasured koi from our ponds."

"Ah, yes..." Why hadn't she thought of that? It was a wonder she hadn't been dismissed already.

"For that, I'm afraid that you will be held under suspension for a month," Seike continued ruefully. "You will receive no remuneration during that time, and as of right now, you are expected to relocate this cat elsewhere."

It wasn't the worst punishment, she supposed. It was better than being dismissed and having to seek employment elsewhere from the other noble families, or from the existing Shinigami living in their own households within Seireitei. If her mother was alive, she'd be deathly ashamed of Akari. Akari's family had served the Kuchiki House for generations.

Akari hung her head further in remorse. "Yes. I apologize, Seike-san. And..." She bowed deeply. "I apologize, Byakuya-sama."

Byakuya did not grace her with a response. He observed all of them with fleeting interest, and then gracefully turned on his heel and departed, his silk scarf fluttering behind him.

They were dismissed.

* * *

 _:tbc:_


	5. Chapter 5: Second Encounter

**A/N:** This is set in the same verse as previous chapters, and is a direct sequel to the third chapter.

 **Verse:** 'Half-Canon'.

* * *

The first thing she did the next morning was find Obā-chan.

Akagi Kikyō—or simply Obā-chan, as most people in Hanging Dog affectionately and respectfully dubbed her—was probably the oldest resident Hisana knew in the district. She was petite and skinny, her stature just like Hisana's, but with a shock of silvery hair and a face that reminded Hisana of a smiling, kindly prune. She'd used to live with her young rambunctious grandson, but he had eventually left the Rukon District to enroll in the Shin'ō Academy. Hisana had heard not too long ago that he'd finally graduated.

Ever since his departure, however, Obā-chan had been left alone in her ramshackle hut, and was only occasionally visited by her grandson whenever he found the time.

Hisana felt very sorry for the old lady. People shouldn't be left behind. She knew that all too well.

Until today, she was still facing the consequences of her actions years ago.

But she tried to make up for it in ways where she could. She visited Obā-chan often in her hut, where they'd make delightful small talk and she'd bring with her rare scraps of food she'd managed to procure for the old lady. This time, however, Hisana had something very special as a gift.

"Oh my..." Obā-chan gasped, her weathered face etched with astonishment as she stared at the items retrieved from the wooden box Hisana had brought. "Are these—oh, dear me, are these _sandals_ , Hisana?"

Hisana could understand the latter's shock. The notion of owning a pair of sandals was practically inconceivable in Hanging Dog; it was a luxury well beyond the means of its residents. They were all too used to walking about barefoot, the soles of their feet blackened with dirt.

"Yes," Hisana said, beaming softly. They were currently sitting together on tattered straw mats in the old lady's hut, but Hisana had clambered to her feet and slid down from the raised wooden platform, before kneeling by Obā-chan's outstretched legs. A single flickering candle was lit within the candle holder on a rickety shelf to keep them warm.

"Where on Earth did you get them, Hisana?" Obā-chan questioned bewilderedly, as the younger woman gently lifted her tiny wrinkled foot and slid it through the straps—made out of straw rope—of the sandal. "And why are you giving them to me, you silly goose? You need them more than I do—you're always out and about searching for that baby sister of yours. I'm just an old hag who stays here all the time."

"You're more susceptible to the cold than I am," Hisana countered, suppressing the pang of aching sadness at the mention of her sister. She cradled the heel of the old woman's other foot and slid it carefully into the second sandal, careful not to jostle her stiff joints. Both sandals fit Obā-chan perfectly, which was no surprise considering their similarities in physique. "My feet are warm when yours are, Obā-chan."

"Oh, don't you try to distract me with that glib tongue of yours," Obā-chan crackled away. "You still haven't told me where you got them."

"They..." Hisana hesitated. She didn't want to lie, so all she said was, in a soft voice, "They were a gift, from someone very kind."

 _And someone I can't have..._

"A gift?" Obā-chan looked shocked. She narrowed her beady eyes. "Don't tell me... Did you meet someone from the other districts, Hisana?"

Hisana knew what Obā-chan meant. The latter had assumed that Hisana had received the gift from someone living in a district before the fifty-ninth one in the Rukon District. After all, the residents of those districts had the privilege of wearing sandals wherever they went.

Well, them... and, of course, the residents living in Seireitei.

A knowing grin spread on Obā-chan's crinkled face. "Was it a man, Hisana?"

"No, that's not—" Hisana protested instantly, her heart-shaped face coloring.

Obā-chan couldn't be more wrong. The idea of the Captain having that kind of interest in her was laughable, especially after her discovery about his status and prestige. The two of them were worlds apart. Even Obā-chan had failed to grasp the gap in spite of her preconceived notions.

It was painful, and Hisana had berated herself terribly for ever getting her hopes up.

Besides, it wasn't as if she was a beautiful woman. She was reasonably pretty, perhaps, but without any rouge, without the face powder, without any accessories at all for her to dress up with, she'd never be beautiful.

She was only dirty.

It was funny for Hisana to want to be beautiful. To her credit, that desire didn't strike her often. Here in Hanging Dog, survival was far more crucial than vanity. Yet sometimes, after a long hard day, she'd lie cold and hungry on the hard straw mats of her hut and think bleakly about what it would be like to be a woman, and not a survivor.

She'd never know.

In an attempt to change the topic and to divert herself from her disheartening thoughts, Hisana reached for the package enveloped in the black silk _furoshiki_. She'd deliberately chosen to bring out the black silk over the pale blue because she knew that it would attract less attention in the gloomy, drab streets of Hanging Dog than the latter. Brushing aside the wooden box that had contained her sandals, she reverently touched the neatly folded pink haori beside it.

Hisana had debated all night whether she should give it to Obā-chan.

It was beautiful. She'd never owned anything out of silk before—had never worn anything, technically, other than the threadbare, sullied brown robe that ended at her thighs and which she always kept tied together with a frayed cotton sash. The idea of wearing a lovely haori made out of flowing pink silk—and that was her favorite color—was an extravagance she'd never thought she'd ever get to enjoy.

But she couldn't be selfish. What had she done to deserve such a gift? She couldn't exploit the Captain's kindness and generosity for her own personal desires. As long as there were people who needed such luxuries more than she did, she would not allow herself to enjoy them. For how could she?

A long time ago, Hisana had once placed her own needs above someone else's.

And to this day, she regretted her actions more than anything else in the world.

Quietly, Hisana held out the folded pink haori to a stunned-looking Obā-chan, whose eyes had widened to the size of saucers.

"This is for you, Obā-chan," she said affectionately, smiling at the shriveled old woman.

"Please… Promise me you'll wear it to stay warm this winter."

* * *

Akagi Eiji stretched lazily as he strode down the corridors of the Eighth Division Barracks, sheathed sword swinging lightly on his hip. Alongside him was the Shinigami whom he'd graduated with from the same class in the Shin'ō Academy. They had been fast friends ever since they had enrolled in the entrance exams together, and their camaraderie had been further cemented when they'd been recruited together into the Eighth Division.

They were currently approaching Kyōraku Taichō's headquarters to submit their work time sheets to Nanao Fukutaichō. She frequently stayed at his office to either reprimand him for neglecting his paperwork, or resign herself into performing his administrative duties for him.

"I have to say, I'm a lucky bastard," Eiji was saying. "I mean, we're supposed to be getting our first ever pay this month, and for a second I thought I'd have to buy something for the old hag. What a drag!"

"You mean your Obā-chan?" his friend queried, slowing down.

"Yeah, her. Then I hear that this girl from our district sent her some gifts. It's heaven-sent, I tell you! Now I get to keep every cent of my pay."

"Your district? Hanging Dog, was it?"

"Yeah, that shithole. I dunno how, but that girl got her hands on a pair of sandals and a haori made out of fucking silk and gave them all to Obā-chan! Fucking crazy, I tell you."

"What the—? How'd someone from Hanging Dog get her hands on that? _We_ don't even get anything out of silk over here."

"How the hell do I know? I don't give a shit about Hanging Dog anymore. That place is a nightmare."

"Well, good to know your Obā-chan has something to keep her warm, though. Isn't she really ancient?"

"That idiot girl should have kept the stuff for herself. She's gonna freeze to death because of… I don't know, some dumb altruism, I guess. Why care about an old hag who's about to expire any minute now, anyway?"

They crossed the bend, and then suddenly stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of two Shinigami standing by the corridor. One of them had his trademark sunglasses on, as well as the white Fukutaichō's armband on his left arm. The other...

Eiji felt his stomach plummet. Meeting a Captain-level Shinigami was one thing. Meeting a Captain-level Shinigami who was also the Head of one of the Four Noble Houses in Soul Society was another. It was well-known that the Noble Houses carried great weight and influence over Central 46 and the Shin'ō Academy. Even the military had no authority to act against the Four Houses unless they had evidence of treason.

Shit. He'd been talking really loudly with his friend. How long had the two other Shinigami been standing there?

How the hell was he supposed to know there would be visitors from the Sixth Division? Judging by how they'd come from the direction of Kyōraku Taichō's headquarters, they must have just wrapped up a meeting with the latter.

Hastily, Eiji bowed deeply, and his friend followed suit.

"Kuchiki Taichō, Shirogane Fukutaichō," they chorused nervously in a stammered greeting.

"Yeah, mornin'," the latter drawled. The former, however, made no comment, and he glided elegantly past them, his Fukutaichō trailing dutifully at his heels.

Eiji and his companion stayed where they were long after they had left.

"It must be nice to come from old money," his companion put in feebly.

"You don't say..." he muttered. There hadn't been anything ostentatious about the visitor, but somehow, his sheer presence alone and the way he'd carried himself spoke volumes about a different class and prestige altogether.

Suddenly, Eiji's meager paycheck this coming month didn't feel anywhere as impressive as before.

* * *

Hisana trembled.

She trudged forward through the snow, her socked feet wobbling, spindly arms wrapped around herself as a weak shield against the howling gale of the incoming blizzard. The moth-eaten, torn wool mantle she'd found earlier did little to soothe her cold. She felt as if she was being assaulted by an onslaught of pointed icicles pelting every inch of her skin. Flakes of heavy pale snow fell fast as she approached the door of her hut, her feet reduced to ice blocks. Her button nose and pale cheeks were stained pink.

Despite her agony, she willed herself to plow forward, wading her socked ankles through the thick island of snow. She practically collapsed onto the battered door, flinging it open with her weight.

Hisana landed gracelessly on the stone floor of her hut, and then huddled herself into a tiny, shivering ball. Flecks of snow slid off her raven hair. The gale promptly shut her door behind her with a _bang,_ casting the interior of the hut in darkness. She needed to light her candles, but for now, she was content just lying where she was, waiting for the feeling to return to her limbs, especially her feet. She couldn't be more grateful for the still, silent air.

Unexpectedly, a familiar silver-white flutter caught her eye, and she stiffened.

Was she dreaming...?

Instantly, a dazed Hisana was transported back to that very moment months ago... one that had irrevocably changed her life since.

 _The amber glow of the sunset illuminated the stranger's long windflower silk scarf, which flickered in the soft breeze._

She stared dumbly at the ebony back of the Shinigami facing her. As she watched, her breath caught in her throat, he turned slightly from where he'd been observing the inside of the hut, and slate grey eyes met her violet ones quietly in the dim.

Her lips, now numb for a reason that had nothing to do with the cold, parted, and tendrils of her warm breath spiraled into the chilly air.

"... Byakuya-sama?"

* * *

 _:tbc:_


	6. Chapter 6: The First

**A/N:** This is a direct sequel to the second chapter.

 **Verse:** 'Half-Canon'.

* * *

 _If you wish to remain by my side, those are the shoes I would like you to fill._

That statement ricocheted in her head like a whip as she lay awake on the soft futon in the middle of the night. She couldn't believe it. Surely she had to have heard wrongly.

Had Byakuya just asked her to... marry him?

In all of her wildest dreams, that possibility of it ever transcending into reality had never once occurred to her. Yet he'd stated it so mildly and unhurriedly, like it was hardly a big deal. Technically, though, he hadn't asked her, but Hisana knew it was the closest she would ever get to a proposal.

Hisana was positive by now that she'd dreamed his words. It couldn't be real. The implications of a lowly peasant from the slums becoming the wife of Lord Kuchiki Byakuya, the Twenty-Eighth Head of the Kuchiki House… It was all so mind-boggling that she felt almost dizzy. Even in her past fantasies, she'd always pictured a world where they were equals in the Rukon District, where they'd be able to marry and start a family together without facing ramifications from any differences in status.

But this...

Byakuya had not pressed her for an answer. After he'd made his statement, he'd gazed calmly at her flabbergasted visage, and then gently lowered a slender hand across her creased brow.

"Rest."

Much as she had wanted to argue, she couldn't deny her fatigue. Her fever had just broken, and her body was still exhausted from the internal battle it'd endured.

Her violet eyes fluttered shut, soothed by the sensation of his warm hand on her forehead. It was easier than she'd expected to slip back into mindless slumber again.

When Hisana came to once more, the room was dark, and the servant girl Akari sat by her bedside, her eyes lidded as if she was half-asleep herself. She blinked awake at once when Hisana stirred, however.

"Ah, Hisana-sama," she said in a low, concerned voice. "Are you all right?"

Hisana was a little confused and discomfited by the new form of address Akari had used, but her mind was foggy from the lingering remnants of sleep and she couldn't think straight.

"Byakuya-sama?" she managed weakly, voicing the one thing on her mind.

Comprehension dawned on Akari's face.

"Byakuya-sama was called away because of some unexpected issues that cropped up at the Sixth Division," Akari explained kindly. "He'll be back soon. In the meantime, please get some more rest, Hisana-sama. Are you hungry?"

"No," Hisana croaked. The mere thought of food made her want to throw up. She vaguely recalled being fed spoonfuls of something soggy and warm in the midst of her fever earlier—probably congee, judging by what she could remember of the taste.

"Please let me know when you're hungry, Hisana-sama," Akari urged.

"Please don't..." Hisana wanted her to stop calling her that. If anything, Hisana should be the one hailing Akari by a respectful form of address. A servant under a Noble House definitely outranked a commoner from Hanging Dog.

She was too tired to finish her sentence, though, and her heavy eyes drew closed.

 _If you wish to remain by my side, those are the shoes I would like you to fill._

She couldn't stop thinking of those words. Had she imagined it from the delirium of her fever?

That was certainly more possible than if she hadn't.

Idly, Hisana's mind wandered to the span of her affair with Byakuya. It had all been so clandestine and unbelievable to her.

She remembered the gifts. It had started with the sandals, the haori, the bento, which felt like ages ago now. Those gifts had touched her heart, eliciting a warm, aching feeling in her chest she'd never forget for the rest of her life. She'd been moved to tears, and that was when she'd begun falling into the downward spiral that she was now entangled in.

She'd fallen in love with the one man she couldn't have.

But that had only been the beginning.

And then, some time after that, she'd been given another package wrapped in black silk _furoshiki_ by the same unimpressed retainer under the Kuchiki House who had passed her the first few gifts from before. He'd then proceeded to collect the empty bento boxes from that previous time, paying no heed to her heated protests.

Once the retainer had left, she'd unraveled the knot and parted aside the layers of the _furoshiki_ , her heart in her mouth, to see new lacquered wooden boxes stacked together. Folded primly to the side was a more scaled-down plain brown cloak compared to the haori. She'd carefully cracked open the lids of the boxes, which revealed a compartment of steaming rice, and of other numerous side-dishes: pickled plums, grilled salmon, _nori_ and _agedashi_ tofu. There was even a thermal flask, the cap of which Hisana unscrewed, releasing the fragrance of hot jasmine green tea inside.

He'd been so wonderful, her heart swelling at his gesture, and yet she'd immediately felt guilty. The residents of Hanging Dog were lucky if they managed to find a loaf of bread to eat. And here she was, with a mouthwatering, full-course meal that she hadn't worked for and most certainly didn't deserve.

She'd promised herself, hadn't she, that she'd try her best not to place the needs of her own over someone else again?

And so, Hisana had gifted a delighted Obā-chan the bentos. By then, Obā-chan had stopped asking questions. Hisana suspected that the old woman had already an inkling of the source of Hisana's gifts. The silk haori had, after all, been a prominent giveaway.

Once a grateful Obā-chan had finished the food, Hisana had cleaned the lacquered wooden boxes and the flask thoroughly with a damp cloth. Then she'd carefully stored them together with the silk _furoshiki_ in her hut for safekeeping, painstakingly ensuring each day that no dust or dirt stained the items. Some days, huddled in her cloak (which, despite its plain appearance, had turned out to be made of some water-resistant fabric), she'd gaze tenderly at the empty boxes and flask, thinking of their owner.

Then one night, he came to her doorstep.

Hisana had been floored and overcome with joy. To her surprise, he himself had been holding a bundled package in one hand, which he placed wordlessly on the decrepit table in her hut. His slender, deft hands—clad in those fingerless white _tekkō_ —undid the knot of the wrap easily and she'd peered at the contents, her mouth slack.

There were more bento boxes.

"Byakuya-sama..." Hisana had breathed. "What..."

He'd sent her a level, piercing look, and she'd squirmed slightly. Had he known that she hadn't eaten the dishes the last time?

Regardless, the intention behind his actions now was clear.

Barely suppressing the emotions she felt for him, she'd sat there by the battered table, and obligingly picked up the proffered bamboo chopsticks in the bundle, then slowly ate the rice and wide gamut of side-dishes while he watched. Needless to say, the food had been delicious, the mixed flavors of salt and vinegar mingling on her tongue.

But nothing had tasted better than the first time that evening when she'd shyly sidled up to his seated form adjacent to her by the table, and kissed his smooth cheekbone with uncharacteristic brazenness.

That was when he'd lifted her chin with a long finger, her heart beating madly, and their eyes had met: her large violet ones, and his an intent slate grey.

They'd had their first kiss.

It had been the most magical moment of her life inside that dim hut. It was like time had stopped, and all that mattered was the taste of those mint-cool, yet surprisingly soft lips on hers.

That was when Hisana knew it was too late to turn back—she'd lost her heart.

The next day, the retainer had arrived again, looking as dour as ever. He'd been accompanied by a few other Shinigami with him, much to her confusion, who carried various equipment and tools with them, including a hammer, a drill and screws. She'd quizzed them on what they were about to do, but other than commanding her to stand back, they had pretty much ignored her.

After half an hour of work, they'd installed a security chain on her wooden door. The retainer had informed her tonelessly that it wouldn't serve as protection if someone with brute strength broke down the entire wooden door, but it would guard her against average residents of Hanging Dog—specifically stray kids, women or anyone who didn't necessarily possess brute strength—who tried to trespass her home.

Then he'd handed her a small silver key. From the inside of the hut, all she needed to do was stick the key into the lock to release the chain. From outside, she had to push open her door slightly, which was as far as she could push with the chain blocking the way, then reach in and insert the key into the lock from the outside of the door. The retainer had demonstrated for her the steps involved under both instances.

"Please," she'd said thickly, before they'd left. "Thank Byakuya-sama for me."

None of them had said anything in response. Hisana could feel their dislike towards her searing into her skin, and she understood why perfectly. The notion of their master expending such attention and resources on a lowborn in one of the most decrepit districts in Soul Society must have been terribly unwelcome and out-of-place.

But Hisana didn't care. It wasn't as if this would amount to anything significant in the future anyway. For now, she'd simply wanted to cherish every lasting moment she had with the Captain.

As long as she could continue seeing him, she was more than content. Every waking day she'd go about her chores, thinking of him. Even her hunt for her sister had been sidetracked by thoughts of him lately. She'd never viewed herself as a romantic, but perhaps she'd always been one, because her mind was wholly consumed by the man she loved—the possibilities of when she'd be able to see him again, to run her fingers through the silken raven strands of his hair, to gaze into those grey eyes, to trace the lips that she'd tasted not long ago.

And longed to taste again.

She'd chastised herself. Her sister was out there all on her own, waiting to be found, and here she was, thinking all day about a man. Yet in spite of that, Hisana found herself gazing more often than not at the empty bento boxes that she cleaned religiously everyday. The night the Captain had come, he'd taken back the containers he'd brought with him, but she hadn't let him collect the previous bento boxes.

He'd said nothing at her refusal other than to raise an ebony eyebrow, and a blushing Hisana hadn't elaborated why.

How could she explain to him what his gifts meant to her? It wasn't the food, the sandals, or the clothes that mattered, though she was eternally grateful for them. The gifts hadn't stopped coming; the following week, the retainer under the Kuchiki House had visited her doorstep again, flanked by a Shinigami that carried an enclosed futon with both his hands, which comprised of a neatly folded _shikibuton_ , followed by the folded comforter on top, and a wrapped sheet and pillow.

Hisana had barely fought back tears as the men placed the arrangement of fabrics onto the straw mats of her hut. A futon. She'd never slept in one before, not since she could remember living in the Rukon District. Ever.

And yet that was what had mattered. Not the futon itself, but everything it represented.

That he cared, maybe just the slightest fraction of how much she did.

And Hisana wished she could repay him somehow, to even out this horrible imbalance of giving and taking, but she couldn't think of a single thing that she could offer. She had barely anything she could even offer herself, other than the clothes on her back and her ramshackle hut.

But the least she could do was give to those people that needed more than she did.

So Hisana had passed Obā-chan the futon. The old lady had been dumbstruck, and like Hisana, on the verge of tears at the sight of the futon. The comforter promised a night of unimaginable warmth and reprieve against the bleak winter.

"Hisana," Obā-chan had said. "You should not be giving them to me. Your man gave them to you... for you."

Hisana smiled through her own tears. She'd stopped denying the existence of her paramour at this point.

"I have to give, Obā-chan," she said gently. "If all I do is take, I'll feel awful. Whether I should give this to an old lady with arthritis, or keep it for myself: that's hardly a conundrum, is it?"

She'd gone back to her hut that afternoon, and sat down, her violet gaze falling upon the knotted _furoshiki_ tucked in the corner of her straw mats. It was almost second nature to her now as she undid the sable silk. Her fingers grazed the surface of the ornate wooden box, tenderly tracing the smooth lacquer finish. She'd felt like a fool, keeping the lacquerware as if it was hidden treasure, but at the very least, if Lord Kuchiki stopped showing up one day, she'd have this—and the brown cloak—to remember him by.

But the bento boxes were particularly special. They'd been the reminder of what his first ever gifts had been, even if they weren't the exact same bento containers from that time. She'd already lost the silk haori and the sandals, so the boxes were all that were left as a form of remembrance.

Frowning, Hisana noticed a sudden movement in the corner of her eye, and her pulse skyrocketed when she spotted the unmistakable outline of a furry, small dark brown body scuttling across the side of her hut, its elongated snout twitching.

A rat.

Hisana had screamed at once as she jumped back instinctively and dropped the box from her hands. It sailed past the elevated platform which contained her straw mats and landed on the hard stone floor with a tremendous _crash_. The racket sent the rat scurrying off towards the door, where it flattened itself and squeezed through the gap between the bottom of the door and the ground, then vanished outside.

By now Hisana could care less about the damned animal. It was the sight of the bento box lying on the ground, with a thin, spidery crack running through one side of its wooden surface and the lid flown off, that caught her attention fully.

"No," she'd gasped, darting towards the fallen objects. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't.

She picked up the lidless box, inspecting the long fissure running down one side of it. Panic welled up in her belly.

No. This wasn't fair. She'd spent days guarding it like her own baby, and just like that, it was ruined in a matter of seconds. She wanted to scream again out of frustration and heartbreak.

Hisana had felt as if her whole world was crashing down around her. It was dramatic, but the bento boxes had meant everything.

Why couldn't she ever take good care of the things that mattered to her?

Hisana slowly sunk onto the straw mats, her lidded purple eyes stinging as hot tears began to trickle down her cheeks. She clutched the cracked bento box to her chest, unable to suppress the heart-wrenching sobs that wrecked her slight form.

She was tired of everything—of feeling guilty and conflicted and uncertain, and even of searching for her sister each day.

She was so tired of constantly trying to do the right thing, and never knowing if she'd succeeded.

Before long, she'd cried herself to sleep, her slender frame curled up into a ball with the bento box held to her breasts. She didn't dream, her body and mind too spent for that.

The next thing Hisana had remembered was a familiar warm hand gently stroking her disheveled hair. She'd opened her eyes drowsily, her lashes sticky with dried tears.

The inside of the hut was dark, a sign that the sun had set. She'd no clue how long she'd been asleep. But all thoughts of that flew out the window when she turned her dark head and the color slate grey filled her vision.

He sat by her prone body on the edge of the stone platform, watching her. The male wore his usual black robes and windflower silk scarf; his long-fingered hand, clad in the familiar white _tekkō_ , was gently threading through her hair. Strangely enough, he rarely wore his Captain's haori whenever he came to see her.

Her airways immediately seemed to constrict, though whether from elation or dismay, she wasn't sure. Naturally he owned his own set of key to the lock he'd had his retainer install for her.

Hisana never knew when he would come, and because of that she'd usually try to make herself look as presentable as she could. There wasn't much she could technically do considering her hands were tied, but she'd try to comb her hair, to keep her clothes tidy, and keep herself clean.

But now? Her eyes were probably red and puffy from crying, her heart-shaped face blotched, hair messy, and her brown robe dishevelled. To make things worse, she was lying here with his bento box clutched fervently to her chest like an undignified madwoman.

This wasn't at all how she wanted him to find her.

"Byakuya-sama," she whispered softly. "You're here. "

He directed his gaze with almost detached interest at the straw mats.

"Your futon," he observed. "Where is it?"

Hisana stiffened, but she slowly sat up, the box still cradled in her bosom.

"I gave it to Obā-chan," she answered contritely after some hesitation, then looked up at him with passionate violet orbs. "Thank you so much for the gift, Byakuya-sama. I… I don't deserve your kindness. But the thing is, I simply can't lie in a warm futon every night knowing that an old woman with arthritis is sleeping out there in the cold. I'm so sorry…"

He studied her for a brief heartbeat.

"I see."

Hisana couldn't tell if Byakuya was disappointed with her. But then again, it was always difficult to tell anything when it came to him.

Before she could press further on the subject, his scrutiny flickered towards the box nestled tightly to her chest, and her heartbeat quickened.

"I… I broke it," Hisana confessed offhandedly, her voice wretched. Even she was taken aback by how devastated she sounded. "I dropped it, and now it's b-b-broken…"

Her voice cracked at the last word, and she was too stricken with sorrow to feel embarrassed about the single tear that leaked from her eye.

He raised his hand, and, ever-so softly, brushed the lone tear away with a calloused thumb, his warm skin heavenly against her pale cheek.

"Why do you cry, Hisana?" Byakuya murmured.

"Because to me, this box means…" she hesitated, and then smiled sadly. "The bento was the first gift anyone's ever given me, Byakuya-sama. It's not the same bento box as the first, but the meaning is there."

He tilted his ink-black head noiselessly as he considered her words. The slender hand caressing her cheek withdrew and his fingertips lightly touched the edge of the polished box she was clutching.

Sensing his tacit command, Hisana reluctantly let go of the box, allowing him to lift it away from her grasp. He cast the cracked container the most cursory of glances, as if it meant absolutely nothing to him, and carelessly set it aside on the straw mat.

Then Byakuya looked back at her, his smothering gaze skimming past her face and down south. Following the direction of his scrutiny, Hisana looked down.

She immediately received a nasty jolt of shock at what she saw. While she'd been cradling the bento box and curled up on the mats earlier, a portion of one side of her robe had inadvertently been tugged away from the cotton sash around her waist. The robe fell across her shoulder, exposing an expanse of creamy skin and the small but defined mound of her left breast, her nipple just tucked out of sight. In proportion to her diminutive size, she'd always been very small-breasted, lacking the voluminous size many women had.

With a squeak of sheer embarrassment, Hisana's hand flew up to cover herself. She grabbed the meandering edge of the robe and pulled it back over her left breast, and maintained her grasp over it. She'd have to adjust and retie the sash to tuck her robe back into place, but she couldn't do that now, could she?

Flushing, she sat there, one hand clasping her robe, unable to meet him in the eye. The day was only getting worse and worse.

She sensed rather than saw him bend forward, and then her heart nearly burst right out of her chest when he dipped his raven head and kissed her, his cool, soft lips meeting hers languorously.

Hisana let out an unconscious sigh of euphoria as he explored her parted mouth slowly. He took his time, lips stroking and caressing her, almost as if he was tasting every inch of her essence in excruciating detail, and refused to be rushed.

It had been the same for their latest tryst before this. They'd been in the other's arms, her mind addled by the hot wet kisses he laid upon her. For a reticent man that usually said very little, he expressed himself emphatically through action, the sensuous tug and pull of his lips against hers speaking volumes of an ardor she would have otherwise thought impossible of him.

And she'd kissed him back as eagerly too, equally keen to devour him as much he did her. It was a possessive feeling, to know that in that instance, Byakuya was hers, and no one else's.

Not the Gotei Thirteen, not the Kuchiki Clan, not the enemy forces—Hollow and whichever menace alike—that awaited his involvement.

Just hers.

And just like the previous time, a bizarre sensation had stirred in the pits of her belly from their kisses. It was odd and most disconcerting, because she'd never felt anything like it before. Of course, she'd also never been kissed before, so it was all foreign territory to her. But she didn't know what to make of the peculiar heat in her lower region, the sensation so molten and potent. It'd been pleasurable and uncomfortable at the same time, like a coil being restrained inside her.

It was probably because Hisana was so new to all this that she was so hypersensitive; that she felt every little nuance of his physical touch so strongly, and reacted as such. She'd dismissed the sensation recently as an inexplicable aberration in her anatomy, but now as Byakuya kissed her again, it was back with a vengeance, and she tried her hardest not to squirm from the heat in her most private regions. It was embarrassing and puzzling that a kiss on the lips could ignite a completely different part of her body.

None of it made sense.

It was getting hard to think. His hot, slick tongue grazed the center of her bottom lip, coaxing her open, and her mouth instinctively parted further, like a flower blossoming for him. She felt heady and intoxicated as she allowed him entry, his tongue twining unapologetically with her own. Caught up by the amorous haze clouding her senses, the hand holding her robe fell away, and the cheap ginger fabric slid down her alabaster skin. She didn't care; one of her thin arms was flung around his neck, while his own left arm—stronger, bigger, and far more unyielding than hers—was curled securely around her slim waist.

Byakuya abruptly ended the kiss, raising his ebony head away from her. Hisana emitted a mewl of protest, her violet eyes glazed, lips swollen and raw from his ministrations. He gazed down intently at her exposed breast, his features unreadable, and she froze, her pulse erratic.

Then he gently traced his thumb across the underside of the miniature swell of flesh—a single leisurely stroke across her delicate, milky skin. She couldn't help herself; she moaned.

His grey eyes darkened at the sound, and his thumb skimmed up the satiny curve of her breast, sweeping across the rosy-pink peak of her nipple, which pebbled at his touch.

"Byakuya-sama…" Hisana let out a breathy moan, and crumpled against the side of his arm, her suffused cheek pressed to his hard bicep through the sleeve of his black _kosode_.

He lowered his head again and, this time, planted a soft, lingering kiss on her neck, strands of his long jet-black hair tickling her clavicles.

It was too much; the sensation of his lips kissing the vulnerable skin of her neck sent a powerful electric current right down to the strange and shameful throbbing fire between her thighs, and his attention on her breast had only made it worse.

" _Ahh_ —" Hisana wriggled in his arms, her skinny legs lurching on the straw surface. "Byakuya-sama, I feel strange…"

He watched her for a fraction, and then his grey eyes softened, so imperceptibly that she almost missed it.

Unexpectedly, he scooped her slight weight up easily, then lowered her onto his lap, her back facing away from the door of the hut. She could smell his scent; rain, the barest hint of vintage old books and lavender ink, and something else unique only to him, she supposed, that she couldn't define. It titillated her olfactory senses, making her dizzy, and the interior of her hut spun when he claimed her mouth again in a fierce kiss.

Her entire body was quivering now with a wicked tension simmering within her lower region, and she tightened her grip on the windflower silk of his scarf, feeling frustrated and wired and pleasured all at the same time. But she couldn't seem to relax; all of her muscles were taut and screaming for…

For what, she didn't know.

Byakuya broke off the kiss again, and Hisana sucked in her breath when she felt the feather-light touch of his fingertips brushing her bare thigh, which was exposed where her robe, tugged away from the cotton sash, had ridden up.

"It's all right," he said calmly, noting her reaction. "I'm not going to hurt you."

She knew he wouldn't. She trusted him with all her heart.

Rather, even without saying it aloud, she was aware her lover was about to soothe this mysterious torment she was in.

"Don't…—don't look, Byakuya-sama," Hisana whispered, her face flushed. Aroused as she was, she had yet to fully renounce her modesty.

Yet.

"I won't," he murmured in her ear. "Not today."

Before Hisana could properly register the implicit meaning in his words, Byakuya had gently slid his dexterous, slender digits under the hem of her robe, and, unfazedly, he nudged aside the cotton garment of her underwear, his thumb rubbing against the lips of her labia. To her embarrassment, she was wet for some reason, as if she'd peed herself.

Whet was going on?

She shuddered; she wanted to tell him to stop, that she didn't want him to dirty his hand with whatever that dampness was (if it was indeed an indication that she'd wet herself, she'd never live this down), but it felt too good. She'd never had anyone touch such an intimate part of her before. Yet somehow, he seemed to know that the source of her torment was down in that spot, though she hadn't said it.

How…?

Hisana gasped then when his fingers parted the dripping folds of labia, before fondling the inside. He stroked her lazily but deliberately, never once halting his motions. She groaned, her head thrown back on his bicep, and he kissed the bared alabaster sheen of her neck, nipping at it slightly with his teeth.

Throughout it all, he hadn't ceased his explorations. Hisana had a feeling Byakuya was searching for something, but she hadn't a clue—

Her vision went white.

He'd slipped his long, adroit fingers through the little center at the top of her vulva, and thumbed something deep and sensitive within the sodden folds that sparked an explosion of pleasure through her.

Never having felt this before, Hisana arched her back on his lap and emitted a strangled scream, her hips bucking into his hand.

If she'd thought she'd felt good before, then this was a whole other level.

"Byakuya-sama…" Hisana gasped, almost drunkenly.

 _Please. Do it again._

She could have sworn she'd seen the corners of his lips faintly quirk, but the idea of the taciturn Captain actually smiling was unthinkable, and it was gone as soon as she saw it.

Her mind went blank then as he rubbed that sweet spot once more, and she groaned at the resulting ecstasy it elicited. The heat inside her was smoldering at an all-time high now, and it continued unfolding like an inferno bigger than she could contain, about to combust within her person.

"Byakuya-sama," Hisana gasped. "Something strange is happening…"

She'd never felt this build-up before, but, for lack of a better term, she felt as if she was about to pee—and very vehemently, at that. It was hardly attractive, and she had to warn him, despite her constantly rolling hips against his hand. She didn't know what she wanted; she felt torn between making him stop before she wet herself all over him, or simply letting him push her over the edge and into mindless oblivion, whatever that might entail.

"Byakuya-sama, you have to... stop," she managed. If he didn't... "I–I think I'm about to—"

 _To pee,_ was what she mouthed between ragged pants, too overcome with mortification to voice the two words, but Byakuya read her lips anyway.

"No, Hisana," he said evenly. "You're about to come."

With two fingers, he very carefully pinched that sensitized magic spot between the rough pads of his fingers, and Hisana instantly came undone, burying her face into the windflower silk scarf and crying out brokenly as waves of shattering pleasure wracked her vaginal muscles.

She couldn't believe she'd never experienced this ferocious paradise before, with the heady mixed scents of the Captain driving her exhilaration to new heights.

Slowly, Byakuya withdrew his slender fingers from under the hemline of her robe, and, having somewhat come down from her high, she finally turned away from his scarf and peeked down at his gloved hand sluggishly, her heart beating so maniacally she wondered if he could hear the deafening din it made in her own ears.

His fingers were _soaked,_ a glistening film of moisture coating them. Hisana could feel the warmth filling her cheeks at the sight.

She opened her mouth, about to feverishly apologize for sullying him, but he beat her to the punch, murmuring in rich, velvety baritone tones.

"Is this the first time anyone has made you come?"

Dumbly, Hisana gave an automatic nod.

"I see," he said quietly.

It struck her then that he'd given her another first. Her violet eyes drifted to the cracked bento box sitting to one side, and a faint, gentle smile tugged at her mouth, her initial despair dissipating from her bosom as if it had never existed. Sitting up on his lap, she slung both arms around her lover's neck and boldly kissed him on the lips, wanting to taste every bit of the enigma that was Kuchiki Byakuya.

Hisana could not wait to explore the many firsts awaiting their future together.

* * *

 _:tbc:_


	7. Chapter 7: Turn Back the Pendulum

**A/N:** This is a would-be situation set in a similar verse as the previous chapters, contrary to how it might appear. Technically, this is a prequel set years before the events of past chapters. This is not 110 years ago, but takes place in between _Turn Back the Pendulum_ and the current Bleach storyline, but not too long after _Turn Back the Pendulum._ After all, I'm sure Hisana had a life before her death in the Living World.

Also, Japan is different around nearly a century ago. I've tweaked the canon timeline a bit for my own liking.

 **Verse:** 'Half-Canon—Turn Back the Pendulum'.

* * *

Shiba Kaien sipped his hot green tea from the china cup, watching the dainty woman opposite him as she sipped from her own cup.

Currently, in this day and age, the Living World of Japan had become greatly influenced by Western culture. The main source of their exposure towards Western culture was from the influx of foreign films in Japan that portrayed American and European fashion in extensive detail. As a result—unlike in Soul Society—less and less Japanese citizens in the Living World now wore kimonos and other traditional wear.

Times were changing, but Soul Society remained frozen in the past.

Shimizu Hitomi, the co-owner of this charming millinery shop in Karakura Town, was dressed at what was presently considered a little daring against the height of fashion here: a pale swing dress strewn with pink polka dots that was cinched at the waist, giving her petite frame hourglass proportions. Even though they were indoors, she wore a fetching pink cloche hat that hid most of her hair except for the night-black ends curling out around her slender neck. Her feet were clad in white pointed slingback kitten heels.

But it was Hitomi's face that stood out most. She wore dark scarlet lipstick in stark contrast against her milky skin, and had on false lower and upper lashes that accentuated her large violet doe eyes. He had never seen her without her false lashes, liner, face powder and lipstick before; he'd sometimes wondered how she would look underneath all that exotic makeup.

There was no doubt Hitomi was a woman who liked dressing up. She never went anywhere bare-faced, and she always wore something pretty and feminine, preferably pink, which appeared to be her favourite color. Unlike Hitomi, Kaien never did anything fancy in his Gigai—he remained dressed in his crow-colored _shihakushō_. It didn't attract attention in the Living World; despite their predominant Western trends, there were still Japanese citizens that donned traditional wear.

Kaien took another sip of tea.

He knew that Shimizu Hitomi was not her real name. Having conducted a background search on the woman, he'd discovered that her real name was Shimizu Hisana.

He'd first met her in one of his patrols at Karakura Town. The town fell specifically under the Thirteenth Division's jurisdiction, hence Kaien, the Vice-Captain, along with the occasional unseated officer from said Division, was frequently assigned to visit it to ensure that peace was maintained and to report back any arising abnormalities. About a month ago, he'd come across a Hollow pursuing a human woman, who did not possess any spiritual energy at all, and she was thus confounded and terrified out of her wits at the invisible force behind her that obliterated the walls and the street lamps in its wake.

Kaien had saved her that day.

Ever since then, the woman, who had introduced herself as Shimizu Hitomi, had struck up a friendship with him, and they'd meet for tea whenever he visited. She still didn't know everything that pertained to Soul Society, but she'd grasped the fundamentals: that there was a separate world from the one she lived in, that there were residents of that separate world that eliminated Hollows, and that she'd been hunted previously by no other than a Hollow itself. Kaien had briefly described a Hollow to her, only stating that they were the undead that were unable to find solace and which devoured human souls as sustenance.

Hitomi had accepted his explanation without probing further. That was probably why he could continue his friendship with her; she didn't ask questions, and took what he was willing to give. He'd never met a woman so unassuming, so reserved, and yet so warm.

Perhaps she never probed, because she had secrets of her own. She'd never revealed any of her history to him, so he'd felt a little guilty when he'd had the Twelfth Division conduct a background check on the woman.

Shimizu Hisana, who was in her mid-twenties, had once been Matsuda Hisana just half a year ago. She'd filed a case of domestic abuse before her marriage to her husband had ended in a nasty divorce. Apparently, her husband had not wanted the divorce, and, despite the successful restraining order she'd placed on him, he had vowed that he would go and find her again once the restraining order expired in a year. Consequently, Hisana had moved to a new town and taken a new name. Shimizu was a common enough surname in Japan, but not so much her first name.

And so she was now Shimizu Hitomi. Kaien continued calling her as such, not wanting to let on that he knew of her backstory.

"So, Kaien-san," Hitomi prompted, smiling fondly at him over the brim of her teacup. They were presently in the tea parlor within the millinery shop she co-owned with a friend. The furnishings here were all Westernized, with a Victorian mahogany table between them that contained a cream jug as well as a teapot placed atop a trivet. The duo both sat in white wicker chairs, each holding a teacup and saucer. "Have you decided how you plan to propose to Miyako-san?"

Kaien grimaced. He'd divulged to her that he'd decided to marry Miyako—whom he'd simply said was a female co-worker in his line of duty that he'd shared an amorous relationship with for almost a year—but had been struggling to figure out how he could ask her.

"Not at all," he admitted. "I'm screwed. I can't just flat-out ask her, right? Women want to be wined and dined. It has to be romantic."

"That depends on the woman," Hitomi said gently. "If she does want that, then yes, you could consider it. Do you know if Miyako-san prefers that?"

"I've no clue," Kaien said gloomily. "She's always so practical and sensible all the time. We're not like typical couples. We've never gone for steamy candlelight dinners and all that jazz, you see."

"I wouldn't say that means you're atypical," Hitomi remarked amusedly. "There is no standard definition of what makes a typical couple, Kaien-san."

"Yeah, but what if a fancy proposal is what she wants?" Kaien asked. "Do I need to get down on my knee, or something? I always see in those Western films these days that the man has to get down on his knee and flash some diamond ring."

As the Head of the Shiba Clan, one of the Five Noble Houses in Soul Society, it wasn't that he couldn't afford one if push came to shove, but it was not within a Japanese tradition to propose with an extravagant diamond ring. Most proposals in Japan were extremely indirect and vague, with women having to read between the lines to grasp that one was being made. Usually Japanese men had to concoct clever ways of framing their proposals, and there was a popular one that went by:

 _"Do you want to lie in the same grave with me?"_

Kaien didn't see the attraction in that, considering they were already Shinigami. They were literally death reapers, and they didn't need another reminder about death. Additionally, engagement rings were solely a Western invention as well, so he didn't see the appeal in getting one for Miyako.

Hitomi was about to answer his last statement when a series of loud, boisterous knocks erupted at the front door of the shop, and she jumped in her chair.

Kaien groaned inwardly. He recognised that spiritual energy outside the shop straightaway.

Damn Kuchiki Ginrei.

Before Kaien had headed for the Living World this time, the Twenty-Seventh Head of the Kuchiki House had approached him at the doors of the Thirteenth Division Barracks. The elderly man had looked unerringly serene as he always did, his windflower silk scarf fluttering behind him, his robed arms drawn together. Despite his weathered, wrinkled face, his slate grey eyes were as piercing as ever—as if they could penetrate right through your soul.

"Ah, Shiba-kun," Ginrei had said, nodding. "How are you?"

Kaien had bowed deeply to him. Even though they were both Heads of the Five Noble Houses in Soul Society, Ginrei outlived him by centuries, and he was also the Captain of the Sixth Division compared to Kaien's Vice-Captain status. All in all, the other Shinigami vastly surpassed him in experience, rank, and skill, and was thus a formidable figure that commanded much respect from the majority of Seireitei.

"I'm very well, Kuchiki Taichō," Kaien had answered deferentially in kind. "And you, sir?"

Ginrei nodded.

"I, too, am well," he had said. "The matter is, I'm here because I'd like to make a request of you, Shiba-kun."

Kaien had blinked, startled. It was rare of Ginrei to make requests of him, or of anyone, for the matter. The old man possessed expansive connections and resources to attain whichever goals he had in mind.

"What is it, sir?" Kaien quizzed.

"It's about Byakuya," Ginrei had rumbled calmly. He was referring to his teenage grandson, who was well-known to be extremely rambunctious and high-spirited. "Unfortunately, that boy worries me."

"I heard he is training very hard, Kuchiki Taichō," Kaien proffered.

"Yes," Ginrei acknowledged. "He spends his days training at our compound. But that boy lacks perspective. Spending all of his life in our compound makes for a sheltered mind, I'm afraid. It can be worrisome. He has yet to look outside of himself and to the world around him."

"I see..." Kaien was starting to have an inkling of what Ginrei wanted of him, and he couldn't say he liked it.

"I'm hoping to broaden his horizons and provide him with some perspective of life outside the four walls of the Kuchiki estate," Ginrei had stated. "Therefore, if possible, I'd like Byakuya to accompany you on your trip to the Living World this once. I've spoken to Ukitake Taichō, and he was rather enthusiastic about the idea."

Obviously his Captain would be enthusiastic—Ukitake Jūshirō adored children, including the hothead Kuchiki Byakuya, for some twisted reason that eluded Kaien.

"Ah, yes..." Kaien felt his insides curdling. Just like that, the tranquility of his upcoming trip to the Living World was about to be shattered. He had to summon all of his willpower to muster a watery smile at his companion. "Well, if Ukitake Taichō has given his consent, then I can hardly decline, can... I?"

Either Ginrei hadn't noticed the plaintive plea in his words, or he was ignoring it.

"Very good, Shiba-kun," he had said succinctly. "For that, you have my gratitude. I will arrange for Byakuya to meet you at the Senkaimon."

"But the Gigai," Kaien had added quickly, in one last bid to weasel out of the arrangement. "We need to prepare one for him—"

"The Twelfth Division has already made the necessary arrangements," Ginrei informed him, unruffled. He turned away, his arms still folded beneath his lengthy sleeves as he prepared to leave. "Do take care of that boy for me, and teach him your ways well. Do not hesitate to instruct him as you see fit."

"You speak too highly of me, Kuchiki Taichō," Kaien croaked, bowing once more as the Kuchiki Head gracefully departed, scarf fluttering.

If the Twelfth Division had already made the necessary arrangements, then it was evident this trip was premeditated. Ginrei's 'request' had been nothing but a formality.

Suffice to say, Kaien had not enjoyed his journey to the Living World with the companionship of the rowdy teenager. The latter had been confused as to why his grandfather had sent him with Kaien, but had decided that he'd eliminate as many Hollows as possible in Karakura Town to make his grandfather proud and to uphold his pride as a member of the Kuchiki House.

That was fine by Kaien. When they'd reached the Living World and inhabited their Gigais, he'd told the teenager that they should split up for the sake of efficiency. His companion had agreed exuberantly, then darted off with his Flash Step, which was admittedly impressive for his age, to find Hollows in the town to eliminate.

Then Kaien had happily made his way to Hitomi's millinery shop to have his usual tea. Maybe it wasn't that bad, he'd thought. Now he had an underling to perform his work for him. He was more than certain that all the typically low-level Hollows roaming the town would prove to be a piece of cake for young Byakuya. Nonetheless, he'd told himself not to stay in too long by the off-chance that something unforeseen occurred and Byakuya did end up hurt.

Kaien did have to report to Ginrei by the end of the day, after all.

But it looked like the boy had found him all by himself. He had to admire the latter's perceptiveness; the Vice-Captain had masked his spiritual energy, but somehow the Kuchiki heir had been able to trace him regardless through what miniscule remnants of energy he'd been unable to fully conceal.

"Now who could that be?" Hitomi mused, placing her teacup and saucer back on the table and getting up from her seat.

"Er, about that, Hitomi-san," Kaien said sheepishly. "I have a… well, a co-worker with me today. That must be him."

Hitomi raised her brows.

"Oh, is that so?" she queried. "Why didn't you ask him to tea with us then? I would have gladly welcomed him."

Kaien opened his mouth feebly, about to reply, but she had already hastened out of the tea parlor to get the door.

Hitomi hurried through the main reception area of the shop, which was filled with varying assortments of hats perched on tall bronze stands: feather hats, berets, and cloche hats, similar to the one she currently wore. She navigated her way around the stands and towards the locked frosted glass door on the other side of the room, where she'd hung the ' _CLOSED_ ' sign to enjoy her tea break. Her business partner running the shop alongside her was out of town at the moment to attend a wedding, leaving Hitomi by herself. The tea parlor, which she usually shared with her partner, was now occupied by Kaien.

Hitomi was glad. He couldn't have come at a better time.

She did not enjoy solitude anymore, not without her irrational paranoia creeping upon her.

A few more impatient knocks snapped her out of her reverie, and she called out, "Coming!" to the dark figure staining the frosted glass. The woman swiftly inserted the key into the door lock and turned it.

Hitomi, one hand now holding the open door, was greeted by the sight of a young teenage boy who looked about sixteen to seventeen. His glossy long black hair was tied up in a high ponytail, with overlong bangs framing a boyish, slightly rounded fair face. He had wide slate grey eyes and a rather endearing innocence to his handsome features.

The boy was clad in an expensive-looking pale blue _kosode_ and _hakama_ , with an intricate crest embroidered on the front of the _kosode_.

Before Hitomi could take a closer look at the design of the mysterious crest, however, the boy had stepped forward.

"Shiba Kaien is inside, isn't he?" he demanded. "Bring him out!"

"Wait—" Hitomi had barely spoken when the boy moved.

To her disbelief, the only things she registered were a blur in the air, like a watery ripple marring her peripheral vision, and a faint breeze that ruffled the ends of her hair, before the boy was gone.

She stood there, staring dumbly at the empty space where the boy had been standing at a mere millisecond ago.

What on Earth had just happened?

* * *

 _:tbc:_


	8. Chapter 8: The Proposal — Part II

**A/N:** This is a direct sequel to the beginning of the sixth chapter. Also, I wrote in some details that I gleaned from the Bleach light novels, _We Do Knot Always Love You_ and _Can't Fear Your Own World._

 **Verse:** 'Half-Canon'.

* * *

When Hisana awoke again, the room was bright, amber sunlight pouring through the _shōji_ screens and the transom windows above the fusuma panels. The room was also utterly empty, save for herself; not even the servant girl, Akari, was in sight.

Slowly, Hisana sat up on her futon, and stretched. She felt much better now compared to before. Other than a mild stiffness in her bones and slight soreness in her muscles, she was almost back to her old self, her head clear and alert. The girl looked around, her bottom lip jutting out nervously. She remembered Akari urging her to rest more last night, and then she'd eventually fallen asleep again.

What was she supposed to do now? She was fully awake, but neither her lover nor Akari was in sight.

 _If you wish to remain by my side, those are the shoes I would like you to fill._

Hisana shivered, her cheeks blushing. She must have imagined those words in her fever-induced delirium. It had probably been her most inner desires forcing their way into her consciousness. How ridiculous of her to even consider that those words could've been real; she would've been terribly humiliated had she thought they were real and acted as such in the household. All the servants would have laughed their socks off, and Byakuya...

Hisana blanched.

Steeling her resolve, she slid out of her futon and rose to her feet, which she noticed were bandaged. Surprisingly, they didn't hurt, even though they'd bled from constantly walking the streets of Hanging Dog to find her missing sister. The girl peered down at herself, a hand warily touching the white _hadajuban_ she currently wore. The upper section of her attire was made out of a breathable cotton, while the skirt—the _susoyoke_ —consisted of polyester.

Color flooded her face once more. Who had changed her into these undergarments? She fervently hoped that it had been the servants.

Hisana knelt down. She had to fold away the futon, though she wasn't exactly sure how since she'd never owned one before. With only her instincts guiding her, she decided to fold the thick comforter first. She'd just folded the plush fabric into half the second time when the sliding doors slid open, and frantic footsteps thundered towards her.

"No, Hisana-sama!" Akari cried, pink spots in her cheeks. "Please leave the futon alone—it is not your responsibility!"

Hisana stopped at once.

"I'm sorry," she said, blinking uncertainly. "It... It was not my intention to offend you."

"Offend—no, that is not what I meant!" Akari exclaimed in horror. "I meant that it is the task of the servants to store the futon, and not yourself, Hisana-sama." She came over and hesitantly touched Hisana's arm, her face set in an endearingly shy expression. "This is for you, Hisana-sama. Byakuya-sama prepared it."

It was then when Hisana noticed a silk haori draped across Akari's arm.

A pink silk one.

Her throat tightened right away.

"Please put this on, Hisana-sama, to stay warm," Akari went on. Noting Hisana's frozen frame, she spread out the haori herself and placed it over the small woman's shoulders. This haori was shorter than the previous one, ending just beyond Hisana's waist.

"If you will, Hisana-sama, please follow me. Breakfast has been prepared. The servants will take care of the futon."

"I see," Hisana said softly, holding onto the sides of the pink haori reverently, overcome with wonder at how soft silk could feel under her fingertips. For some unknown reason, something held her back from sliding her arms through the lengthy sleeves, as if she still wasn't sure if she could fully embrace this gift. "All right. Thank you very much. And—" She couldn't help herself; she had to ask the one question burning in her mind. "May I know where Byakuya-sama is?"

"Oh, Byakuya-sama is still busy with issues at the Sixth Division," Akari explained ruefully. "He came back briefly last night while you were asleep, but he had to leave shortly again for the Division Barracks. He'll be back again this evening, I'm sure," she added, noticing the crestfallen expression on Hisana's face. "He usually is gone throughout the day."

"It's fine," Hisana reassured her immediately, feeling faintly embarrassed at how transparent her emotions had been. She felt guilty too; what right did she have to miss the Captain when she knew just how much the workload on his shoulders was? She'd been aware all along that his presence was vital to the likes of the Gotei Thirteen and the Kuchiki House.

It all seemed so surreal. She'd known that she and the Captain hailed from two different worlds, but she'd always felt so detached from his world since their previous rendezvouses had always been conducted in Hanging Dog. To her, he'd been a figure from a far-away universe she'd never dream of encroaching, but here she was now, in this foreign world and seeing for herself the life he lived when they were usually apart.

Even though he wasn't here, Hisana couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit closer to him.

She wondered if it was a regular occurrence for him to be away from home so much in order to fulfil his obligations at the Division. Did he get enough sleep? It couldn't be healthy. The idea of Byakuya enduring sleepless nights to perform his numerous duties didn't sit well with her at all.

As Hisana trailed after Akari out of the room, she decided then that she would uncover everything she could of Byakuya's life before she—inevitably—returned home.

It was time to see for herself everything that constituted her enigma of a lover.

* * *

Hisana had not realised just how vast the Kuchiki Manor was. She'd followed Akari around endless corridors, the latter opening and shutting a myriad of sliding doors as she made their way towards their destination, wherever that was.

"By the way..." Hisana began softly. "Please don't call me again by that term, Akari-san. Just 'Hisana' is fine."

Akari appeared even more horrified than before. "Hisana-sama, I cannot. That would be extremely disrespectful."

What was disrespectful, Hisana thought, was a servant under the Noble House being forced to address a lowborn from the Rukon District by such honorifics.

"Then how about 'Hisana-san'?" Hisana asked gently.

Akari shook her head. "I'm sorry, Hisana-sama. There are rules that must be observed."

Rules?

Hisana scanned their surroundings. The pair were alone as of now.

"How about..." She leaned forward conspiratorially, noting that the other girl was only a few inches taller than herself. "Can you call me 'Hisana-san' when we are alone? I won't tell, I promise."

Akari stiffened. "Hisana-sama..."

"Honestly, that term makes me really uncomfortable," Hisana confessed. "Please, could you do this for me, if only to soothe my discomfort?"

Akari looked conflicted. "Well..."

"Please?" Hisana prompted, clasping her hands together. "Please, Akari-san?"

Akari managed a weak smile of defeat.

"All right... _Hisana-san_." The servant girl reluctantly whispered the last part of her sentence as if it was sacrilegious.

Hisana laughed. "Thank you, Akari-san."

Akari stopped at the final sliding door, then slid it open and held it there for Hisana to pass through first, who did so timidly.

She looked around the new room. There was a _tokonoma_ at the other end of the room, which contained calligraphic scrolls and a beautiful peony flower arrangement. Situated at the center of the room was a _chabudai_ —a low tea table—and a _zaisu_ was placed before it. There was even an armrest that came with the _zaisu_.

On the table was a platter of dishes aligned deliberately in an aesthetically pleasing layout, consisting of piping hot white rice, pickled cabbage, miso soup, fermented soybean, salt-grilled mushrooms, and grilled dried horse mackerel. A red clay teapot of what smelled deliciously like matcha sat beside the side-dishes.

Akari stood beside the _zaisu_ and bowed. "Please sit here..." She hesitated, then whispered, "Hisana-san."

Biting back a smile, Hisana gingerly sat down onto the padded cushion, lowering her back comfortably against the backrest.

"This is nice," she said, her gaze falling upon the armrest. "I don't see cushions that come with these often."

Or at all, she thought.

"Oh, Byakuya-sama usually uses a _zabuton_ ," Akari revealed, referring to the plain cushion without the armrest or backrest. "But he specifically arranged for a _zaisu_ and _kyousoku_ for Hisana-sama in light of your health."

Hisana felt a warm sensation blossoming in her chest.

Despite his reticence, one of the biggest things that had drawn her to him had always been his tacit kindness, and his attentiveness. Perhaps there existed naysayers who would contradict her, but she'd seen and experienced his kindness for herself, and she would never forget it for the rest of her life.

A sliding door suddenly pulled open, and Hisana jerked up in her seat, her heart pounding. Could it be—?

To her disappointment, instead of the sight of her lover as she'd foolishly hoped, an old man with snow-white hair and round glasses appeared. He wore the black uniform resembling a Shinigami's, only his _kosode_ reached to his knees, and there was a white robe wrapped around his shoulders and fastened at the front.

Akari bowed to the old man, then turned to address Hisana.

"This is Seike Nobutsune, Hisana-sama," Akari said, reverting back to the honorific Hisana so detested. "He is the chief retainer of the household."

"Oh, I see…" Hisana climbed hastily to her feet with as much grace as she could muster, and bowed to the old man. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Seike-san."

"Likewise, Hisana-sama," Seike said quietly, bowing back in turn at her. "I hope your stay has been comfortable so far."

Hisana truly felt ill then. The notion of an old man, who looked about the same age as Obā-chan, calling her that felt absolutely wrong. And it was not to mention he was the chief retainer under the Kuchiki House!

"Please, Hisana-sama, let's have breakfast," Akari, who seemed to have read her mind, urged, coming over to her side and gently tugging the woman down onto the seat before she could utter another word. The girl picked up the teapot and poured a cup of steaming matcha for her. "It'll go cold at this rate."

Hisana obeyed, deciding that she'd handle this issue later. It probably wasn't even that important, since she'd be leaving for Hanging Dog soon, much as the realisation of that stung. Now that she had recovered from her fever, there was no need to take further advantage of their hospitality. Once Hisana left, it wouldn't matter what they chose to call her anymore.

The next few minutes were spent in silence as she ate, the two servants standing together to one side of the room with their heads bowed. Hisana had asked if they would like to join her, to which they'd both politely declined, Akari appearing mildly shocked.

Resigned, Hisana had focused back on her meal, in spite of her discomfort at being watched. She was hungry, truth be told, and the dishes were sumptuous. Compared to her stale diet of bread and the occasional fruit in Hanging Dog, this was heaven-sent. She'd never gotten to enjoy such impressive quantities of food either.

It was most likely due to this that she found herself getting full very quickly. Her stomach was not accustomed to ingesting so much food, even if to most people, that was merely the standard quantity of a traditional breakfast. She eventually put down her chopsticks, feeling far too bloated to continue.

"Ah, Hisana-sama, are you done with your meal already?" Akari asked with a frown, peering at the remnants of rice in her bowl.

"Yes, I'm already full," Hisana admitted. "I feel bad wasting such delicious food, but I'm so full I don't think I can take another bite, I'm afraid..."

"But the meal's not over yet, Hisana-sama," Akari said, lifting the tray off the table. "There's still dessert."

Dessert? For breakfast?

Never mind for breakfast—the notion of dessert after any meal was an alien concept to her. Having access to a full-course meal in itself was already a tremendous luxury.

Seike emerged, carrying a round black bamboo tray. In the midst of her gobbling earlier, Hisana hadn't noticed that he'd left briefly to obtain the tray he now held.

She stared down at the tray as he placed it on the table. On the tray was a plate containing six _wagashi_ , all of them of different colors and shapes. Seike went on to refill her cup of tea.

"The desserts will go well with matcha, Hisana-sama," he said.

"Please try one, Hisana-sama," Akari urged.

Hesitating, Hisana took up a pick that had been lying by the plate and stuck it into a corrugated dark maroon ball, then tentatively brought it to her lips to nibble on.

She barely bit back a moan as the rich, sweet taste of red bean paste and glutinous rice flooded her tongue. Almost at once, she took another bigger bite this time, wanting more of the succulent sweetness.

"Hisana-sama likes the _anko ohagi_ then?" Akari asked enthusiastically.

Hisana nodded, unable to reply with her mouth full. She didn't just like it—she was absolutely captivated by the taste. Sweets were a luxury she never had.

"You must try one," Hisana said, once she'd swallowed and washed it down with hot tea. The combination was exquisite. "It's amazing."

Akari backpedalled at once. "Oh, no, Hisana-sama. That would be extremely improper."

Sensing it'd be pointless to argue, Hisana picked up another one of the sweets, which was a spherical green ball this time. Again, it was also filled with delectable red bean paste, and tasted additionally of what Seike identified as _yomogi_ , which was minty, refreshing and held a hint of bitterness.

It was the most luscious thing she'd ever tasted, and the next confection she consumed, which was pale beige and miniature and cylindrical in structure, tasted just as good, of soybean powder and mildly sweet starch syrup.

According to Akari, it was called _gokabou_ , and it was through the Kuchiki House's extensive connections that they were able to attain these items sold exclusively in Saitama prefecture of the Living World.

Fifteen minutes later, Hisana found herself staring at an empty plate.

Akari was giggling.

"If you'll pardon me for saying so, Hisana-sama," she said, "it appears you have a sweet tooth! You didn't really touch much of the main dishes, but you finished dessert."

"I guess you're right," Hisana acquiesced with a grimace at her own gluttony. "I'm going to be morbidly obese at this rate."

Akari's giggles faded, her features sobering.

"Well, you could afford to gain some weight, Hisana-sama," she said kindly. "I do think you're a little too thin."

Seike shot Akari a sharp look through his round glasses, and the latter immediately appeared penitent.

"I'm sorry, Hisana-sama," she added apologetically in a fluster, bowing deeply at the petite woman. "I spoke out of turn…"

"Oh, no, not at all," Hisana responded worriedly, rising to her feet. "Please don't apologise, Akari-san. You spoke out of concern for me. I'm very grateful."

With that said, she approached the servant girl and drew her into a warm hug.

Akari went stiff in her arms, and from the corner of her eye Hisana saw a stunned expression cross Seike's withered visage.

Wondering if she'd crossed a line, Hisana released Akari from her hug, and peered up at the latter's face.

She looked taken off-guard, but there was also a mild blush in her rounded cheeks.

"Anyway, H–Hisana-sama," she coughed, stuttering over her words. "Please come with me. Byakuya-sama instructed for us to prepare a yukata for you."

* * *

Hisana stared into the mirror in awe.

Was this really her?

With the assistance of Akari, she had put on a pink floral yukata over a new set of undergarments. The yukata contained a beautiful _ombré_ from light pink to a bold darker magenta towards the hem of the garment at her feet; the obi was a coral pink that corresponded with the upper half of the yukata perfectly. The hem and wide sleeves were embroidered with splendid cherry blossom patterns, which were a darker ruby red in the lighter portion of the yukata and a light rouge pink in the darker portion to maintain the contrast.

She had also been given a pair of socks over her bandaged feet and a pair of _geta_ to wear, though they had proved a smidge too uncomfortable for her injuries, and Akari had then swapped the _geta_ for a pair of normal flat sandals. Akari had wanted to help her apply some face powder and other forms of cosmetics as well, but Hisana had declined instantly.

She already felt badly enough wearing such ravishing apparel that she didn't technically own or deserve. Thanks to Byakuya, she had gone the closest to ever feeling like a woman again with the yukata, and she was more than grateful for it.

And how Hisana had longed to feel like a woman after all these years, to be able to dress up and feel feminine and attractive instead of spending every minute of her life trying to survive the harsh streets of Hanging Dog at the expense of her vanity.

 _Byakuya-sama…_

She owed so much to him, and she wished more than anything that he was right here by her side now, so she could demonstrate to him all of her gratitude and love.

"Hisana-san," Akari's voice whispered, and Hisana turned towards the other female. "If you are feeling up for it, would you like to go out and take a walk outside? We can shop together if you'd like."

Hisana paused. Leaving the Kuchiki Manor meant looking around Seireitei, which she'd never been in prior to now. Unable to help herself, she broke into a beam, her heart beginning to pound in growing excitement.

"Oh, yes, please," she said, trying not too sound too eager. "I'm definitely feeling up to it."

Akari flashed her an impish grin.

"Okay," she acknowledged. "I'll be back in a minute, Hisana-san."

Hisana waited as the servant girl scampered out of the room. True to her word, she was back in exactly a minute, with a fuchsia drawstring bag in tow.

"Let's go, Hisana-san," she prompted, still speaking in a cautious, lowered voice whenever she addressed Hisana.

Hisana nodded fervently, hurrying after Akari.

Seen off by Seike Nobutsune at the _genkan_ of the estate, the two females then made their way through the grounds belonging to the Kuchiki House. Hisana felt dazed—the grounds were so vast that the span of a gurgling river flowed right through them. The river narrowed out into a distributary that formed an impressive clear lake punctuated by round stepping stones, where she could see brilliant golden koi frolicking inside the water.

According to Akari, these _Ōgon_ koi were three times bigger than normal koi and were of impeccable pedigree. The lake was framed by rocks of varying sizes and shapes as well as stone lanterns, and the stepping stone pathway extended beyond the lake towards dry land, which was overrun by flat, cleanly-trimmed green moss and raked gravel.

Hisana studied the picturesque trees and plantation surrounding them with widened eyes as they crossed an arched stone bridge within the gardens. The vegetation consisted of gorgeously sheared topiary of juniper and boxwood, together with Japanese cypress trees, black pine trees, and breathtaking plum blossom trees, which had fully blossomed due to the current season of spring. Hisana couldn't tear her eyes off the bold pink flowers, outlined by rounded petals, even as they approached the large stone gateway by the end of the gardens.

Akari pushed one of the massive doors of the gateway open, and together the two women stepped out from the official grounds belonging to the Kuchiki House.

"We're currently in Kizokugai," Akari explained, in response to Hisana's quizzical countenance. "It's in the Eastern end of the Sixth Sector in Seireitei, where all the noble residences and related establishments are located. Typically, commoners cannot enter unless they obtain formal permission or an invitation from someone of a noble standing."

Hisana's stomach churned. Commoners, like herself?

But what had she expected from a place called Kizokugai, directly translating to _Noble City_?

"You mean without permission, even common Shinigami cannot enter...?" Hisana asked, trying to hide her disbelief.

"Yes." Akari nodded. "Besides, they don't have much reason to come either. The goods and services here are far too expensive for them to afford with their salaries. They usually only come here accompanied by noble acquaintances or friends."

Hisana was stunned. She hadn't realised that even within Seireitei, there were different worlds altogether. She'd expected some segregation, but definitely not to this extent.

"The Kuchiki House and the Sixth Division are the wardens of this entire sector," Akari went on, not noticing Hisana's shock. "The Kuchiki House owns various shops and businesses here as well. That's where we'll be going..." She lowered her voice, darting her eyes furtively about. "... Hisana-san."

"I hardly think I can afford anything here, Akari-san, if the Shinigami themselves are not able to," Hisana said flatly. Despite her high spirits before, she was starting to regret leaving the Manor; she didn't need to have the significant gap in status between herself and her lover shoved unceremoniously in her face. Every time she looked, it only appeared to get bigger and bigger. The fact that she wasn't a Shinigami meant she didn't even have a salary or any source of income to speak of.

"Oh, that's the last thing you have to worry about, Hisana-san," Akari refuted buoyantly. "Considering you are Byakuya-sama's, um..." She appeared at a loss for words for a moment, and Hisana dimly wondered what she was going to come up with. Mistress? Whore?

Though technically, of course, she hadn't gone that far yet with Byakuya.

The servant girl seemed to regain her bearings, and she continued, "Considering you are his consort, all the items in the shops will be free of charge for you."

Consort. Now that sounded nice. It could mean a multitude of things, and right upon hearing Akari's words, Hisana almost let herself believe that Byakuya's proposal yesterday had been real.

Then she shook herself, ignoring the melancholy in her belly. Now was not the time for wishful thinking.

"Come, Hisana-san," Akari prompted, tugging her along the streets. "Let's have some fun!"

 _Fun_ was no longer on Hisana's mind as she listlessly scanned the traditional shops, supported by stone walls and baked tile roofs with wide eaves. The wooden fronts of the establishments were designed with different latticeworks depending on the type of shop they were, and the fronts were framed by multi-colored _noren_.

Akari brought her to several business establishments under the Kuchiki House, including a fabric shop. It was packed with fabric rolls of a wide gamut of textiles and shades, especially silk. The servant girl had directed the personnel to pick out silk brocades, urging Hisana to find a specific shade of color and stencil design she liked so they could construct a kimono for her. If "Hisana-sama"—both the shop vendors and Akari were calling her that now—wanted a specific design not already on the offered fabrics, they could sketch it out on paper first and then have a kimono, which would embody that design, custom-made for her.

Hisana had, as politely as she could, declined the offer, much to their dismay.

Akari had worriedly asked if Hisana didn't want a kimono. The latter had nearly laughed at that. What woman in her right mind wouldn't want a beautiful kimono custom-made for her? She couldn't believe they'd asked her for new designs she'd like that weren't already in the shop, when the designs they did have were magnificent and sublime. If she could have her way and not feel guilty about it, she'd want almost all of the designs and colors they'd showed her. The dye art, the embroideries of clouds, leaves and decorative flowers, the countless tints of peach, plum and white...

But Hisana couldn't accept any of those. Her good mood ever since they had left the Manor had evaporated, and she knew now that she could not take anything the shops had to offer.

Akari, bless her heart, was utterly oblivious to Hisana's thoughts. Determined to impress Hisana with something that she'd accept, she led the woman to a traditional hairpin shop next.

Hisana had to admit, her breath caught then.

So many different types of _kanzashi_ were on display. The first ones she spotted were reminiscent of pine needles, and were made of what looked to be real tortoiseshell. There were also _tama kanzashi_ , which consisted of hairpins with elegant spherical ornaments made of jade and coral. Then there were the _hirauchi kanzashi,_ which encapsulated a flat, circular silver design of distinct patterns, including floral ones. There was even a pattern that contained what Akari said was the Kuchiki crest.

Of course, there were much more that Hisana couldn't keep track of, some of which encompassed vibrant and pretty flower motifs out of silk, or were shaped like combs to fit into a woman's hair, or included accessories of clinking long chains as well as miniature bird or butterfly designs.

"Please, Hisana-sama, pick one," Akari said hopefully. "Surely something catches your fancy..."

Something? Everything caught her fancy. She felt disoriented and overwhelmed. Was this how a noblewoman conducted her life?

Was she constantly spoilt for choice with these luxuries and accessories, knowing she could wear any garments she wanted, and have on any of these stunning ornaments in her hair at her own whim?

Hisana forced a sad, brittle smile at Akari.

"They're all beautiful," she said. "But my hair is short, you see, so it wouldn't be practical..."

Akari looked taken aback.

"Oh, that's true," she conceded. "But you can always pin your hair up, Hisana-sama, so that you can wear the hairpin. You would look beautiful."

Hisana shook her head ruefully.

"Thank you for saying so," she said, "But I think I should pass. I'm very happy you spent so much time with me, Akari-san. Speaking of which, I'm a little tired. Is it all right if we head back?"

* * *

She hadn't been lying.

Although she'd recovered from her fever, she was still tired when she returned to the estate, with a bone-deep fatigue that wasn't completely physical. Akari, seeing the ashen tinge her face must have taken, had helped disrobe her of her yukata and hurriedly unravelled a futon again for her to lie down on.

Hisana had thanked her profusely, and long after Akari had taken her temperature to check if her fever had returned (it had not) and withdrew from the room to offer her some privacy, Hisana lay there, wondering if she should tell them she was leaving soon.

But she didn't want to leave before seeing _him_ one last time.

Hisana was abruptly hit by the irrational desire to cry. She was so tired of all the politics involved, of the differences in class, of trying to correct how the household addressed her, of trying to find her place here in this alien place and coming short every time.

All she wanted was to spend the rest of her life with the man she loved.

The hair ornaments, the yukata, the kimono—they were beautiful, but they were also complications she didn't need. By the end of the day, all of that paled in comparison to simply being in his arms, listening to that low, rich baritone voice, running her fingers through the raven hair, and kissing the cool, soft mouth…

In her dreams, she could see it. The two of them living together in the Rukon District, her arms cradling a baby to her bosom, him lying beside her in the hut. Life was notoriously difficult there, and she wouldn't wish that upon him, but her dreams only depicted the heartwarming scenes she wanted to see.

Just him and her, and their baby in the warm hut; in their own private world where no one else could touch them.

And then, unexpectedly, the large confused violet eyes of the baby she'd left behind in the streets inundated her vision, blotting everything else out.

Hisana gasped, her own eyes flying open.

Byakuya gazed down upon her.

For a discombobulated second she wondered if she was still dreaming, but then she realised that from where she lay, she was gripping his hand by her side so tightly she had to be cutting off his blood circulation.

She instantly let go, feeling mortified. In spite of that, his grasp—so gentle compared to hers just now—on her smaller hand remained.

"Byakuya-sama," Hisana gasped. Ignoring her frantically beating heart, she sat up on the futon, drinking the sight of him in with the fervour of a parched woman quenching her thirst. Dressed in his windflower silk scarf, his customary _shihakushō_ and even his Captain's haori this time, he currently sat gracefully in _seiza_ by her bedside on a _zabuton_. "You're back..."

She was so unbelievably happy, it startled even herself.

Now that he was here, all was right in her world again. Maybe it wasn't healthy, but he was the axis of her life—her personal anchor, keeping herself sane and grounded in the midst of her emotional mayhem.

She loved him so much she felt as if she could burst from her passion inside.

"I—I missed you," Hisana confessed shyly. "How was your day?"

Byakuya studied her for a fraction.

"It was fine," he answered simply. "And how was yours, Hisana?"

"It was…" she hesitated, wondering if Akari and Seike Nobutsune had reported the events of the day to him. "It was absolutely wonderful, Byakuya-sama. I experienced so many new things today. I truly can't help but feel so grateful for everything you've given me. You shouldn't have."

His thumb softly grazed the curve of her knuckles, and she had to fight back a flush at his subtle caress.

He spoke then, calmly.

"Did you not find the shops to your liking?"

Hisana started.

"No, of course not, Byakuya-sama," she burst out at once, shocked. "They were so beautiful, and that's a… a colossal understatement in itself. It's only that someone of my station would be…" She laughed self-consciously. "Well, it wouldn't have been fitting. But Byakuya-sama…" She leaned forward ardently, partly because she wanted to change the subject, but mostly because she really wanted to know. "You haven't told me anything about your day. Did something happen at the Sixth Division?"

He considered her question for a moment, his elegant head tilted faintly to the side, and she almost thought, much to her growing disappointment, that he wasn't going to reply.

"A seated officer passed away."

Hisana blinked rapidly at the matter-of-fact statement.

"Passed—?" she parted her lips in dumbfoundment. "May… May I know what happened?"

"He died in action against a Hollow," Byakuya stated evenly. "Arrangements to inform his family and for his funeral were made."

"I see," Hisana murmured sadly. "I'm sorry to hear that…"

Byakuya regarded her heartbroken expression, his own features unfathomable.

"It was… unfortunate," he acknowledged finally.

Hisana's heart ached. She reached over and cradled that slender, gloved hand with both of her dainty ones.

"I'm so sorry, Byakuya-sama," she said tenderly.

Byakuya, too, was not unfamiliar with loss, she discovered. Lavish and opulent as his world was compared to hers, it wasn't perfect.

No, it was probably worse in certain aspects. His soldiers' lives lay in his hands. It was a heavy responsibility she was not sure she could ever shoulder herself.

Driven by an unknown impulse, Hisana leaned towards him and gently kissed his cheek.

When she made to withdraw, however, his long fingers cupped her chin, keeping her still. Her pulse instantly accelerated, her heart drumming uncontrollably within her chest as she found herself gazing into intent slate grey eyes.

He kissed her then, the curvature of his lips slanting against her delicate, pliant ones. She reciprocated eagerly, desperate and needy for him after a day apart. It was strange to think she'd gone much longer than that without him before when she was positively drowning in him right now, and luxuriating in every second of it.

How on Earth had she survived without him thus far?

His hot, slick tongue swept across the entrance of her mouth, and she didn't need further probing; immediately, her little petal mouth parted further to take him in, her head spinning with exhilaration. Nothing had ever felt more intimate than feeling their tongues entwine together, the sculpted curve of his lips teasing her own at the same time with warm strokes and feather-light kisses.

Eventually he withdrew slightly from the inside of her mouth, and she was about to whimper with disappointment until she felt him pulling her bottom lip with his perfect teeth and gently sucking on it.

Hisana moaned, the familiar heat pooling in her lower abdomen.

This was not good.

Ever since he'd brought her to her first orgasm some time ago, she'd been insatiable, much to her chagrin. Being introduced to uncharted territory of what sexual pleasure pertained had been akin to being introduced to a drug—she couldn't forget how intense and dazzling her climax had felt, and since then, he'd brought her to another one during their last rendezvous using his fingers again.

But Hisana wasn't sure if she liked this new side to herself, which was wanton and salacious and felt almost sinful. She was close to being ashamed of her own debauchery. If her lover had it under better control, as was his steely discipline in so many aspects, why couldn't she do the same?

With herculean effort, Hisana drew back enough to break off the kiss, panting heavily. She must look a picture, with her apple-red cheeks, glazed violet orbs and ravaged mouth. She was aware of Byakuya gazing at her wordlessly, his own slate grey eyes so dark with male desire they looked almost ebony.

Feeling suddenly shy, she averted her eyes awkwardly, her blush deepening.

It was then when she noticed a small wooden gift box sitting beside his _zabuton_.

Soundlessly, he followed the direction of her scrutiny, offering no comment.

"Byakuya-sama, what is that?" Hisana asked curiously.

"A gift," he said plainly.

Her mouth fell open. "For… for who?"

He did not reply. Instead, he lifted the rectangular wooden box with a graceful sweep of his robed arm and placed it quietly before her drawn knees.

"Byakuya-sama…?" Hisana managed. Surely he hadn't prepared yet another gift for her after everything he'd done for her today?

Was there no end to his kindness?

She had just started to protest that she couldn't accept his generosity anymore when he sent her that familiar level, piercing look that always effectively quelled her.

Resigned, she touched the lid of the wooden box, fighting back an elated, affectionate smile. "Then, is it all right if I open it now, Byakuya-sama?"

He inclined his raven head slightly, and she took that as wordless assent.

Unable to tamp down the curiosity welling up within her, Hisana pried open the lid with both hands, praying he wouldn't see the tremor in them.

Her heart stopped.

Inside the box was a _hana kanzashi_ in an elaborately pinched design of a slightly enlarged pink plum blossom made of silk. The flower was extremely lifelike, with symmetrically round petals shaped like a tiny pink bowl. Right in the center of the flower where the pistil usually was, however, was a flat, golden circular design of the Kuchiki crest, not unlike the style of the _hirauchi kanzashi_.

What made the hairpin even more unique was that it was a black bobby pin—which would blend well with her hair—instead of a singular rod that constituted a typical hairpin.

Byakuya had taken into consideration her shorter hair.

It also meant that he'd had this specially made for her. It couldn't have been done today; crafting this must surely have taken a longer time than that.

And above it all, Hisana grasped the significance behind this particular gift.

While it was a lot less common these days as compared to the Edo period, she knew that during the latter timeframe, the tradition of a man gifting a woman with a _kanzashi_ was equivalent to asking for her hand in marriage. This was made especially apparent now by the Kuchiki crest, shaped like flowers set underneath clouds, nestled within the flower. And there was even more meaning to that: since the _kanzashi_ was once believed to be a self-defense weapon for women, a man who gave one to a woman also indicated that he wanted to protect her.

Hisana was shaken. It floored her that this man, so quiet and taciturn, could speak so much without uttering the words aloud.

"Byakuya-sama…" she whispered, hot tears trickling down her cheeks now. "I…"

Gently, he cupped her cheek and brushed the tears away with a calloused thumb, his grey eyes almost imperceptibly softer than usual.

He did not press her, but simply watched silently as she lifted the cotton sleeve of her _hadajuban_ to dab her face while choking back tears.

"Byakuya-sama," Hisana finally said, once she was sure she could speak without her voice quivering. She met his gaze steadily, her violet eyes unwavering in spite of her glistening tears. "I would like to put the _kanzashi_ on."

He looked at her intently, as indecipherable as always.

"All right."

That was all he said, but for once, Hisana registered the quiet emotion in his voice, and she could feel more tears leaking past her cheeks as she picked up the exquisite hairpin from the cushioned interior of the box. There was nothing she could do to hide her trembling fingers this time.

Byakuya's gloved hands gently enveloped her smaller ones, and he extracted the hairpin from her digits. She held her breath as he brushed aside strands of her hair framing one side of her heart-shaped face and slid the pin securely through the thick midnight locks behind those strands.

"Look," he said quietly, turning her around to face a _kyodai_ dressing mirror situated all the way on the other end of her room.

She could see herself, tear-streaked, disheveled and dressed in only her white undergarment robes, with just the lovely plum blossom in her hair as an accessory.

Yet Hisana had never felt more beautiful, even when compared to how she'd looked in her yukata.

She'd never needed those things to feel beautiful—to feel like a woman.

All she'd needed was him.

* * *

 _:tbc:_


	9. Chapter 9: The Announcement

**Verse:** 'Half-Canon'.

* * *

The Kuchiki Elders were, at present, the oldest living members of the Kuchiki House, having been around for centuries. While the main family ruled and resided in the main estate, the branch families—distant relatives of the main family—stayed in separate, more scaled-down residences on the grounds belonging to the Kuchiki House. The Council of Elders were members of the branch family, some of whom had been first and second cousins once removed of Ginrei Kuchiki, and were thus older and of a previous generation than he'd been.

Until today, they remained as an advisory council geared towards maintaining the operations of the Kuchiki House and in fulfilling the House's objectives as well as ensuring its welfare and prosperity. For years they had been proud and immensely satisfied with their current Head—he was very intelligent and was presently the most powerful Head in the history of the Kuchiki House, and, not to mention, had been extremely loyal to the family since his birth.

Then, one day, a meeting was called in the assembly hall.

The assembly hall was situated in the residence of the branch family. It was a large circular room lined with rows and rows of wooden pews that were split apart in the center. A jury box was positioned at the very front of the hall, where five Elders sat, with three occupying the second row and two in the front, all of them seated between each other. They wore long white robes and their arms were drawn rigidly together.

Kuchiki Byakuya stood in the center of the pews at the front of the hall, right before the jury box.

He had forgone his Captain's haori and his windflower silk scarf, and instead had on a white robe over his _shihakushō_. Embroidered on the front of the robe on either side of his chest was the Kuchiki crest.

"Byakuya-sama," an Elder spoke. "For what reason have you called this meeting?"

Byakuya, as was customary of him, did not beat around the bush.

"Starting from today, I will be making the necessary arrangements for the _nyuseki_ ," he said evenly.

There was a stunned silence.

The _nyuseki_ was the act of submitting a contract to the relevant offices in order to seal a marriage and also for the parties involved to enter a family register—in this case, the Kuchiki House—as a married couple. The _nyuseki_ was a particularly lengthy and convoluted process for members of the Four Noble Houses, what with the number of formalities and the amount of paperwork that had to be submitted to various offices.

Once the _nyuseki_ was complete, a couple would be deemed as married. For most Shinigami, a wedding ceremony afterward was typically eschewed in favor for a more personal celebratory banquet with friends and family. On the other hand, however, an official ceremony was much necessary for members of the Four Noble Houses.

"The… _nyuseki_?" another Elder echoed, surprised. "Have you finally decided to wed, Byakuya-sama?"

"And to whom, may we ask?" the first Elder questioned tersely.

Truth be told, they were not as surprised as they looked. The Elders had been notified at the time by informants that their Head had had a unique _kanzashi_ custom-made, a telling sign it was to be used for a marriage proposal for a woman. Upon hearing that news, the Elders had been pleased firsthand. For decades they had urged the Head to find a suitable noblewoman to wed in order to further the clan's connections and bear an heir. In spite of his unwavering loyalty, this was the only aspect that, other than calmly acknowledging the Elders' concerns, the Head had done little to address thus far.

Hearing of the _kanzashi_ had therefore been a great source of delight to the Elders. That was until recently, when they had heard, to their disbelief, that a street urchin from the Rukon District was staying at the Kuchiki Manor. It was all very ridiculous and bizarre. The Head of the House rarely associated himself with the lower class—other than his immediate subordinates and peers, he didn't even mingle with common Shinigami that much.

So the notion of someone from the Rukon District staying at the Manor as a guest was absurd, to say the least.

Byakuya regarded the Council steadily.

"Her name," he said, "is Shimizu Hisana."

He didn't have to add on further for them to register the implicit ' _for now_ ' in his statement.

"I have never heard of that last name," an Elder said pointedly. "Which family is she from?"

"At the moment, she is unaccompanied by any blood relation," Byakuya replied calmly. "She hails from the 78th South Rukon District, Hanging Dog."

Another flabbergasted silence followed, this time longer than before. All of the Elders stared at him in a mixture of horror, anger, and incredulity.

"Byakuya-sama," one Elder finally managed. "Is this a _joke_?"

Byakuya merely gazed at him unflinchingly instead of making a verbal response. The Elders knew, despite themselves, that he never joked. Humor was rarely, if ever, on his agenda, especially not when it came to matters concerning the Kuchiki House.

"Byakuya-sama, you are aware that it is against the laws of the Kuchiki House to accept a commoner into our ranks?" the first Elder said tonelessly.

Byakuya briefly closed his eyes, long sooty lashes playing shadows against his fair skin. "I am aware."

"If you are aware, then—" the Elder struggled to find the words to speak. No one believed more in law and order than Kuchiki Byakuya. What he was revealing now was a tremendous incongruity of every fibre of his character.

"And this is the woman staying at the Kuchiki Manor now?"

"Yes."

"Is she a Shinigami then?" one other Elder asked tightly. "Has she enrolled in the Shin'ō Academy?"

If this woman managed to attain a high Seat in a Division, then not all was lost, though it was only a small comfort.

"She does not possess spiritual powers," Byakuya said simply.

"Byakuya-sama, this is outrageous!" the first Elder burst out in fury. "She has not a single penny to her name, is not of any standing in Soul Society, and does not even have spiritual powers! Surely even you must see the foolishness of your decision!"

When Byakuya merely continued looking at them with his usual unreadable expression, another Elder went on.

"Do you not see what this woman is, Byakuya-sama?" he hissed venomously. "She is clearly nothing but a gold digger!"

Byakuya narrowed his slate grey eyes, and there was a distinct coldness to them now.

"That is enough," he said sharply. "Once the _nyuseki_ is complete, Hisana will become my wife and the Lady of the House. She will be treated with the appropriate courtesy and respect from now on."

"Byakuya-sama, you surely cannot expect us to regard a woman from the Rukon District as our Lady," the Elder said angrily. "This has never happened before in the history of our family!"

"And what happened with Lady Kasumiōji Itsumi?" one other Elder pressed. "For decades the Kasumiōji Clan has expressed interest in having their second daughter as your wife. Itsumi-sama herself has shown she is willing. Why have you not picked her?"

The high-ranking Kasumiōji Clan was a wealthy noble family ranking second only to the Four Noble Houses. The clan had always had a female sovereign, with an iron-clad law passed down for centuries of generations that a male was not allowed to head the clan.

Thus, the second daughter of the current Head of the Kasumiōji had frequently visited the Kuchiki Manor when Byakuya and Itsumi, who were around the same age, had been children. The Kuchiki Elders and the Kasumiōji Clan had always been interested in furthering their relations and maintaining the purity of noble blood by having the pair marry and produce a pure-blooded heir. The Head of the Kasumiōji Clan was understandably very keen to have Kasumiōji Itsumi take on the much coveted position that was the Lady of the Kuchiki House; it would be a remarkable leg-up from their current prestige.

The relations between the Four Noble Houses were complicated and tricky. All Four Houses were considered severe political rivals and guarded themselves against the other zealously, which therefore did not encourage much mingling in terms of inter-house marriage. A woman from one House marrying into another was usually regarded warily, since she would have split loyalties between both Houses. Even if Byakuya should choose a bride from the other Three Houses, the Shihōin House was out of question as he strongly abhorred the former Head, Shihōin Yoruichi. Rumours about their affair had always been false.

The Tsunayashiro House was also not considered because of the bloodshed and strife within the family itself. They were an infamous family for the malevolence of their members, whose questionable acts remained uninvestigated by outsiders of the clan as the internal affairs of a Noble House forbade interference from anyone unrelated.

As for the remaining Noble House, there were currently no female members to speak of.

When Byakuya made no reply, the Elder said, in a softened voice, "We can always negotiate, Byakuya-sama. We are not asking you to banish that woman from your life in light of your… infatuation with her. What about you marry Itsumi-sama for the sake of the Kuchiki House, but keep this, er, Shimizu Hisana, as your concubine?"

It was almost an oxymoron to use the term _infatuation_ on Kuchiki Byakuya. For a long time the Elders had almost believed their cool, level-headed Head incapable of carnal passion towards women. He'd remained indifferent to Kasumiōji Itsumi and so many breathtakingly beautiful women of noble standing alike. He didn't even have a courtesan, which was a common enough practice for unmarried noblemen. Only now and then—and that was extremely infrequent—he'd accept a noblewoman into his bed, but those relationships were greatly impersonal by nature, and nothing had ever come out of them.

Instead, he spent all his time into his work at the Sixth Division and matters pertaining to the Kuchiki House. The Elders had almost been worried that they would not see an heir for a long, long time, maybe even never. It was a curse and blessing to have a greatly capable Head, but also limited opportunity for the continuation of their family.

And yet, Kuchiki Byakuya had, unbelievably, chosen his bride over his family now.

"My decision is final," he said flatly in response to the Elder's suggestion. With that said, he turned to depart.

"Byakuya-sama!" all five Elders rose to their feet and bowed together to his retreating back, chorusing emphatically as one. " _We strongly urge you to reconsider your decision!_ "

He did not turn back; he only continued treading away from the jury box, the span of his long white robe fluttering serenely behind him.

"Inform the branch of my decision. See to it that they honor the new Lady of the Kuchiki House, as should yourselves."

And then, with a final pale flicker of his ceremonial robe, he was gone.

* * *

 _:tbc:_


	10. Chapter 10: Unconditional

**Verse:** 'Half-Canon'.

* * *

There were five different sides Hisana wanted to see to her still-mysterious fiancé (and oh, how wonderful it was to be able to call him that ever since he'd gifted her the beautiful _kanzashi_ the night before).

Firstly, she'd wondered with a gnawing curiosity how he would look asleep.

Sleep was such a vulnerable state for one to be in, and Hisana couldn't envision how her proud, regal lover would look like in said state.

But she hadn't seen it yet. She'd retired early last night from an emotionally draining day, while he had stayed up in an adjoining room that was apparently his study—which was occupied by several filled bookshelves—looking through paperwork on an elm wood desk. She'd stolen a glimpse at it as he'd gone in.

Hisana had initially assumed they'd be sleeping in separate rooms, had Akari not led her into a different room from the one she'd slept in before and rolled out two futons side-by-side in the room. Her heart had nearly jumped out of her mouth at the sight.

"Did… Did Byakuya-sama ask you to arrange this?" she asked, trying not to sound too strangled.

"Yes," Akari said absently, smoothing out the sheets. "He'll join you soon, Hisana-sama, don't worry. He doesn't usually sleep too early because of his work."

Hisana had to suppress a squeak at her words.

"What, um, happened to my old room?" she mustered.

"What?" Akari looked up then. "Nothing. But you're Byakuya-sama's intended now, so obviously you'll be staying in his room from now on, Hisana-sama."

This was his room…?!

Hisana had lain on her futon that night, staring at the outline of the empty mattress pressed beside hers and wondering nervously when he would turn in. She'd then stared at the dimly lit _shōji_ screen to her right, aware of the single tangerine lamp he had illuminating his study.

She'd thought she'd never fall asleep, but she must have, because the next time she opened her eyes, it was to sunlight bathing the room.

The futon beside hers was gone.

He had turned in after she'd fallen asleep, and awoken before she did. She genuinely didn't comprehend how he was able to sleep so late yet awaken so early. Was he getting enough sleep?

In other words, she still didn't know how he looked sleeping.

Secondly, Hisana also wanted to see, of all things, how he looked when he ate. It was a very fundamental and commonplace act, but she'd never, ever, seen him eat before. It was difficult to process him doing normal, human functions.

Her wish had been granted last night, when they had had dinner together. He had eaten very silently without making the slightest sound. Hisana had never seen someone dine so extremely neatly and precisely, leaving not even a crumb behind, his hands unerringly graceful as he handled his chopsticks.

She noticed he didn't eat much rice, but focused more on the side-dishes. His platter of food was different from her own; they were more on the spicy side, with spicy bean sprout salad, spicy miso soup, and the dishes were also accompanied by a multitude of spices such as wasabi and seven-spice chilli pepper.

He'd also forgone dessert altogether, but made sure that Hisana had hers.

So Kuchiki Byakuya enjoyed spicy food, but disliked sweets. Hisana had quickly stored that piece of information in her mind like it was precious treasure.

Thirdly, Hisana wanted to see him smile.

A full smile, not the faintest ghost of a smile she'd seen quirking the corners of his lips almost indiscernibly for a millisecond. Now a full smile would be a novelty, but Hisana had no clue how she would get him to do it.

Fourthly, she wanted to see how he looked… under his robes.

This, she reasoned, was expected of any woman with a healthy set of reproductive organs. He had the most unbelievably beautiful face, what with his angular, patrician features; the long-lashed slate grey eyes, the high cheekbones, the Greek nose and the sculpted lips. As someone immensely attracted to him, she wanted to see not just that arresting face but every inch of him, and that included how he actually looked sans clothing.

Of course, wanting to and having the guts to ever try to make her wish come true were two different things altogether.

Last but not least, Hisana fervently wanted to see how her lover would look coming undone as she had done so a few times with him. What did he look like in bed, during lovemaking? Surely he couldn't remain so aloof throughout…

Of course, she also knew that her latter two wishes were something she wasn't sure she was ready to find out. The context for that to happen felt far too intimidating for her to accept it.

Those were the thoughts running through Hisana's head as she ate breakfast that morning.

"Do you know what time Byakuya-sama retired last night?" Hisana asked diffidently, after she'd swallowed a mouthful of pickled daikon and squashed the naughty thoughts away.

"I think perhaps three hours after you slept, Hisana-sama," Akari, who was stationed by her side, replied. It was apparent by now that her fiancé had picked Akari to be her lady-in-waiting. "I understand he was busy preparing documents for the _nyuseki_."

" _Nyuseki_?" Hisana was so distracted by the term she, for once, forgot to correct Akari's addressal towards her. "What needs to be done? Can I help?"

Akari looked at her doubtfully. "I don't think there is much you can do, Hisana-sama. It's a very complicated process that specifically requires Byakuya-sama's presence and signature most of the time."

"Most of the time?" Hisana echoed eagerly. "So there are exceptions?"

"I really don't think…" Akari hesitated, then said, "Would you like me to explain the entire process, Hisana-sama?"

"Please call me Hisana," Hisana said automatically. "And yes, please. I would be very grateful if you could."

Ten minutes later, Akari had obtained an ink bush and a sheet of paper, and written the details down for her in point form, which went:

 _"For the marriages of persons residing within Seireitei: submission of marriage registration to the (Seventh Sector) Personnel Record Administration Bureau._

 _F_ _o_ _r the marriages of Gotei Thirteen soldiers: submission of regimental soldier marriage registration to the (Fourth Sector) Gotei Soldier Record Administration Bureau._

 _For the marriages of official Seats and above: submission of high spirit marriage registration to the (Sixth Sector) Higher Order Spirit Rank Administration Bureau._

 _For the marriages of nobles: submission of noble marriage registration to the (Central First Sector) Noble Assembly._

 _For the marriages of the Four Noble Houses, a marriage certificate is presented to the Kinin Noble Assembly (Central First Sector); the husband and wife are present under the Head of the family who submits it._

 _Report to the Captain/Vice-Captain of the entire Division at the Division's headquarters."_

"Since Byakuya-sama is already the Captain of the Sixth Division, he won't have to report to anyone," Akari explained. "But as you can see… All of the submissions require Byakuya-sama to do so himself."

"Not all," Hisana refuted slowly. "Not the first one."

"Oh." Akari blinked. "You mean–"

"I'm technically a person residing in Seireitei now, aren't I?" Hisana reiterated.

In spite of her reserved tone, she felt awful. Byakuya had so much to do, and she was contributing close to nothing. She hadn't fathomed that planning and arranging their nuptials would be this cumbersome. And this didn't even include planning the official ceremony!

Hisana had to contribute in every way that she could. She didn't want to impose a larger burden on him that she already did. She was already horribly aware of the grotesque imbalance in their relationship; he was practically housing her, feeding her and clothing her now. The knowledge of that stung, and on an impulse she wished she could do something—anything—to even this imbalance out.

And there was no way she would allow the love of her life to lose sleep because of the _nyuseki_ if she could help it.

"So it can be done?" Hisana asked exuberantly. "I can submit the documents for the first criteria in Byakuya-sama's stead?"

"Well... yes," Akari conceded. "But we'll have to let Byakuya-sama know first. He has to prepare, complete and seal the documents for us to submit. Also, Hisana-sama, I must warn you that the Personnel Record Administration Bureau deals with people going in and out of Seireitei all the time. It's particularly busy, and notorious for its long waiting times."

"Then all the more I must do this for Byakuya-sama, Akari-san," Hisana said softly. "I can't allow him to be so troubled by this when he's already so busy with his own work."

For a second, instead of responding, Akari stared at Hisana in what seemed to be pure wonder, and the latter looked back at her bemusedly.

"Akari-san…?" Hisana asked tentatively. "Is everything all right?"

Akari seemed to snap out of whatever reverie she'd been in.

"Ah, yes, of course!" she exclaimed hurriedly. "My apologies, Hisana-sama. It's just… I think I truly understand now why Byakuya-sama…"

She trailed off again.

"Yes?" Hisana prompted, utterly confused now.

"Never mind, it's nothing," Akari repeated again shyly. "Let's inform Byakuya-sama of the new development when he returns this evening."

Hisana nodded at once keenly. "Yes."

She soon finished breakfast, and proceeded to spend the rest of day anxiously awaiting the Captain's return. Akari provided her with classic novels and poems to read, but her mind was preoccupied with the complicated procedure behind the _nyuseki_ and the burden it must place on her fiancé's shoulders. Not just that, she was also restless and itched to return to the Rukon District so that she could resume her daily hunt for her sister, as was her past routine. She'd already been away from home for many days—

No. As difficult as it was to believe, her home was now the Kuchiki Manor.

Yet as long as her sister remained somewhere out there in the Rukon District, a part of Hisana would always belong there as well.

But she hadn't yet told her fiancé of her sister's existence. She could come up with plenty of excuses as to why, but by the end of the day, it all came down to her fear of what he would think of her.

That she was a selfish coward who would abandon even her own family.

But Hisana knew she couldn't keep it secret forever. She was getting married, as surreal and unbelievable as that seemed, and she couldn't hide such an important part of her history from the man she was about to spend the rest of her life with.

She needed to return to the Rukon District too, to continue her search. She already felt engulfed with guilt; first, she'd abandoned her infant sister, leaving her to fend for herself, and now she was getting married and leaving the Rukon District to live comfortably in Seireitei. For the past few days she'd had a large roof over her head, enjoyed full-course meals to satiate her belly, slept in a futon, and worn clean and expensive clothes.

And yet her sister was still out there braving the bleak living conditions of the Rukon District on her own.

Therefore, if Hisana needed to return to the Rukon District for her sister—and she definitely needed to—she would have to inform Byakuya why, even if it changed everything of how he might look at her.

She would have to do it even if he called off their engagement, and asked for the _kanzashi_ back… even if that would destroy her completely.

* * *

He came home early that evening.

Hisana had been listening to an animated Akari talk about a much celebrated author of a book of haikus they'd read when the latter abruptly stiffened, her head jerking up at the audible flurry of footsteps outside the doors of the library of the Manor.

"Oh, I think he's back, Hisana-sama," Akari said hushedly. She placed the blue paperback carefully into its original slot in the cherry wood shelf, amidst many other leather-bound tomes and paperbacks. The shelf was illuminated by overhanging golden lamps affixed on sconces.

Hisana's pulse quickened.

This would mark the first time he returned to the Kuchiki Manor while she was fully awake instead of lying asleep in her futon.

"Would you like me to tell him of your decision, Hisana-sama, or...?" Akari queried in the same low voice, smoothing her hands over her wrinkled garments.

"It's all right, I'll inform him myself," Hisana answered with an affectionate smile. The servant girl must have read her nervousness.

She swallowed, willing herself to calm down. She didn't get why, in spite of her exhilaration about his return, she was feeling so skittish. It was just the man she loved, coming home.

It was a routine she would have to get used to in the years to come, assuming, of course, that he wouldn't call their engagement off after he found out the truth.

Well, that explained plenty, she thought hollowly. She now knew why she was so jittery.

There was a high chance tonight that she would lose that man she loved.

The petite female followed Akari out of the library and through the winding, long corridors of the estate, nervously drawing the sides of her pale rose silk haori closer over her darker pink _nagajuban_ as she did so. After almost a minute of marching, the pair stopped short when a _shōji_ door abruptly slid open in front of them.

The unmistakably tall figure of the Head of the House came into view, flanked by the snowy-haired chief retainer, Seike Nobutsune.

Both Hisana and Akari rapidly bowed to Byakuya, greeting him together. The former had to muster every ounce of her willpower to gradually look back up at those piercing slate grey eyes.

He glanced carelessly to his right, where both servants were flanked on either side of himself and Hisana. "You are dismissed."

The old man and the handmaid bowed again, and together, with their backs still slightly bent in respect, they withdrew from Byakuya and Hisana in the direction Byakuya had arrived from, Akari shutting the _shōji_ door behind her.

Hisana, now alone with Byakuya, fidgeted self-consciously.

"How was your day, Byakuya-sama?" she asked softly. He'd started walking down the corridor again, and she fell into step with his unhurried pace easily. She suspected he kept that pace for her benefit.

"It was fine," he said plaintively, giving her an unreadable sidelong glance. "And yours, Hisana?"

"It was good," she said quickly. "Byakuya-sama, there is something I must tell you…"

He inclined his raven head faintly towards her, a sign he was listening.

"Akari-san told me of the procedure behind the _nyuseki_ ," Hisana began. "I had no idea it would be this burdensome for Byakuya-sama…"

"Akari."

"I—I beg your pardon?" Hisana stammered, startled and bewildered by his interruption.

"There's no need to address a servant with such formality," Byakuya said indifferently. "Calling her by her given name will do."

Hisana fidgeted again, but she couldn't help what she was about to say next. Perhaps it was a concept that he, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, couldn't understand, but she had to convey her beliefs all the same.

"Byakuya-sama, I—I wish to address everyone with the respect they deserve," she asserted. "They have all been very kind to me, and I don't wish to have their status define the respect I should give them."

She stopped and held her breath, waiting for a rebuke.

None came.

Hisana stole a peek at him. He was still looking at her sideways, his mien inscrutable as ever. He didn't look angry, or displeased.

He didn't look anything.

She didn't know how to proceed. If he was displeased with her, then it wouldn't be a great idea to continue with her spiel.

"What was it you wished to say, Hisana?"

Hisana started, her heart skipping at the way he always enunciated her name in that slow, sensuous caress of his deep baritone voice.

"Ah, yes, Byakuya-sama," she said, in a rush. "It's about the _nyuseki_. I really want to help, but, um, Akari-san pointed out to me all the submissions that have to be made and I don't apply for most of them except as a person residing here in Seireitei, so I wanted to know if I could help us submit for that criteria and lessen your workload."

He turned his head, and Hisana tried her hardest not to flush at the full attention of his acute slate grey eyes meeting her violet ones.

"It is not necessary." His voice was quiet.

"No, Byakuya-sama," Hisana shook her head emphatically. "I must help. I feel bad enough that you have to handle so much paperwork already."

"There's nothing to feel bad about," he said simply. "The end goal easily outweighs insignificant hurdles such as that."

This time, Hisana couldn't fight back her blush. She could feel her cheeks heating at his succinct statement.

Before she could find the words to respond—that truth be told, she agreed wholeheartedly with him—she found herself standing by a seashell-colored _shōji_ door. She realised with a jolt that while caught up in their conversation, they'd ventured somewhere inside the Manor that she'd never been to before.

Byakuya slid the door smoothly open and stepped through it, Hisana trailing uncertainly but curiously after him. She scanned their surroundings with inquisitive wide eyes, and her breath caught in the back of her throat at the view.

They were in an indoor bath. The mahogany ceiling spanned out vastly above them, and the grand hall was enclosed by four gigantic, majestic pillars, with a Japanese cedar floor lamp positioned by each pillar.

All the way on the other end of the hall were open _shōji_ screens that led to the resplendent gardens outside. Hisana could see Japanese black pine trees and plum blossom trees standing near the hall entrance, the respective combination of leaves and flower buds fluttering tranquilly in the breeze. More amber floor lamps illuminated the walkway of the garden.

And right before her eyes, a single pink petal danced into the hall and landed softly on the steaming surface of the pool, where several other petals were already floating atop it. The floor at the bottom of the pool was a dark green, framed by big rectangular tiles.

Hisana had never seen any place so enchanting.

Sudden movement caught her peripheral vision, drawing her out of her mesmerized stupor, and she swung her head around. Her mouth instantly turned dry when she saw her intended gracefully pulling and unravelling the lengthy windflower silk scarf off his neck.

Her airways constricted then as the implication behind what was happening finally hit her.

They were in an indoor bath. A _bath._

As Hisana stared dumbly, he tossed the regal scarf over a lacquered kimono stand placed beside a cedar floor lamp. By the edge of the pool were primly folded towels.

"Byakuya-sama," Hisana forced out, more color flooding her complexion now. "Are you going to…?"

It was a very stupid question. He was evidently here to bathe after a day of work; why else would he have come to this place?

Byakuya looked serenely at her then, having shed his Captain's haori and draped it over the stand.

"Come here."

Despite the sedateness of his tone, it was also irrefutably a command.

Numbly, Hisana did as she was told, her pulse roaring in her veins. Within a few steps, she stood right before him.

He gently stroked her suffused cheek with a warm, calloused thumb, brushing away a stray strand of her hair as he did so. Even until now, she wondered how it was possible that his touch could electrify her entire being.

"You are free to leave if you wish," he told her evenly. "It's up to you."

"And… If I don't leave, Byakuya-sama?" Hisana exhaled shakily.

His grey eyes flashed for a brief heartbeat.

"Then we bathe," he said frankly.

She swallowed, but she didn't back down. Something kept her rooted to the spot; it could just as simply be her inability to tear herself away from him, like a moth riveted to the light.

"Okay," Hisana whispered, so inaudibly she half-thought he wouldn't hear her.

But he did.

Without further hesitation, his gloved hands touched the silk of her pale rose haori and slowly slid the sides of the robe past her diminutive shoulders.

It fell to her feet in a rustle.

And then his slender deft fingers reached for the _datejime_ around her waist, and swiftly undid the undersash. With the _datejime_ undone, the robe of her pink _nagajuban_ fell apart along the front of her body, revealing the underrobe—her white cotton one-piece _hadajuban_ —that she wore beneath.

Byakuya drew the _nagajuban_ away from her shoulders, and it dropped to join the discarded undersash and the haori on the wooden tiled floor.

At this point, Hisana's heart was pounding so rapidly she felt faint.

Never once had he seen her naked before. Sure, he had stroked her between her legs before, but that was under the hem of her robe. The most he'd actually seen was her bare breast. That was as far as they had gone in bed.

So, when he reached for the cord tying her _hadajuban_ together, her smaller hand instinctively descended upon his, halting him.

"Byakuya-sama," Hisana inhaled. "I, um…"

She felt torn and disoriented. She wanted to stay, but she was also mortified. What was she to do?

Then, to her surprise, he extracted his hand from under hers and gently turned her away from him so that she was facing the steaming pool.

"Go in, Hisana," he murmured. "You can do the rest yourself."

Go in…?

Like a lightning bolt, comprehension dawned upon her then. It was one method, warped as it was, to protect what remained of her modesty.

Hisana approached the pool, undoing the knot of the cord by her abdomen once she reached it. Then, with her _hadajuban_ still on, she dropped herself to her knees and then submerged herself into the hot, inviting waters of the pool. The girl noted the structure of a stone bench under the pool, similar to the seat in the ofuro from the normal bathroom of the residence that she'd bathed in prior to today.

This bath felt absolutely divine; she sighed at the scalding liquid soaking the pores of her skin. With either side of her white robe now billowing apart underwater, she stretched out her arms and disentangled herself from the cotton slip.

It slowly sank away.

She then reached down and peeled her underwear off as well.

And now, Hisana was truly bare in the bath. She held onto her panties underwater, unsure what to do. She felt too embarrassed to lift it up and place it by the edge of the pool, partly because she didn't want her fiancé to see, and partly because she didn't dare to turn back and look at him at the moment.

Not when he was probably shedding his own clothes (and putting aside his sword).

Her heart-shaped face now scarlet, she scooted off from the bench in search for the cotton slip that she'd pried off her person. Her heartbeat was erratic and she had never felt more exposed and vulnerable, even when she had been ill. Strands of her black hair swirled in the pool; she was so short that only her head surfaced from the surface when she stood. Beads of perspiration rolled down her skin from the steam.

Hisana had taken a couple of steps away from the bench when she heard and registered hot water rippling behind her, and she froze, one hand clutching her underwear.

She didn't move even as the ripples drew close, and even when she could feel the searing warmth of his body heat behind hers through the sweltering hot bath. He moved languidly, taking his time, and she thought her heart would implode from how maniacally it was drumming within her ribs.

Hisana drew in a shallow breath as her lover wordlessly wrapped both his naked arms around her tiny, svelte frame from behind.

While Byakuya was lean and rangy, every inch of his body was toned and sculpted with sleek muscle, no doubt honed from his combat training and his battles against Hollows and the like. She could feel the sinuous musculature of his body behind her small, soft frame; she was soft where he was hard, her delicate curves an indication of her unfamiliarity with physical combat. He wasn't heavily muscled compared to some Shinigami she'd seen, but his arms easily dwarfed her spindly limbs.

Vulnerable as she was, Hisana had never felt safer now than in his arms.

In his arms, all of her worries fell away. In his arms, all those decades of pain, exhaustion and suffering at the Rukon District faded from her weary body.

In his arms, she was complete.

All she knew was those capable arms around her, his satiny warm skin against hers, keeping her safe and titillated and at peace. They stood together amidst the fog of the bath, their breathing in rhythm with the other's.

A single tear crept down her cheek. Mortifyingly enough, she seemed to cry frequently around him. They made an interesting contrast as a couple: she, so emotional, and him, so controlled.

Byakuya bent his midnight head and kissed the teardrop on her cheek. Wanting more of him, she turned her head so that her lips tenderly touched his minty ones.

They kissed, the grand hall silent for the next few minutes as they tasted the other passionately, silken strands of his long ink-black hair skimming her arm. This kiss was different from their previous ones; it contained none of the carnal undertones prior, and felt more leisurely and emotional than ever before.

Eventually, they broke off the kiss, the pair gazing soundlessly at each other.

"Byakuya-sama…" Hisana began. It was time, she thought feverishly, to tell him the truth.

Before she could continue, however, he spoke.

"You're not wearing the _kanzashi_ ," he observed. She shivered—she could feel the reverberations of his rich, deep voice running through her body.

"Yes," Hisana said shyly. "It's very precious to me. I don't want to wear it in case I damage it. I'm saving it for special occasions."

"And when would that be?"

She hesitated. He had her there.

"I'm not sure," she confessed, a little sheepishly.

In response, he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the top of her dark head.

"I'd like to see you wear it," he said quietly.

"I will," she promised ardently, then jumped slightly when she felt his long-fingered hand close around her thin wrist, followed by his smooth baritone murmur.

"What is this?"

Hisana turned bright red.

"Byakuya-sama, don't—" she protested in horror, but he brought her flailing wrist up effortlessly out of the water, along with the drenched underwear she held in her hand, rivulets of liquid trickling down her forearm.

A beat of silence passed, and Hisana wanted to die from humiliation.

He made no comment, but removed the bunched wet fabric from her fingers and tossed it aside with impressive strength, causing it to land onto the tiled wood floor by the pool with an audible _squelch_.

Not for once, Hisana was glad that her back was to him, because she was beyond mortified.

"B–Byakuya-sama," she stuttered hastily, wanting to change the subject. "I have something I need to tell you."

He still didn't say anything, but she knew he was listening.

Hisana steeled herself to continue.

"When I was first brought to Hanging Dog," she said, "I wasn't brought alone."

It was out now, and there was no turning back.

She took a deep breath, then went on.

"I… I had a younger sister with me. She was only a baby when we were first sent to Hanging Dog. Now… Well, it's been decades, so I assume she should be a young teenager now."

Hisana gave a faint, melancholic smile. She'd wondered, not for the first time, how that round-cheeked baby would look at present. Would she resemble Hisana, or would she look nothing like the latter? Whenever Hisana searched Hanging Dog, she'd hoped that no matter how her sister appeared, she would be able to recognise her only blood relative regardless.

"When we were together, life was very difficult. It still is. Trying to care for myself was hard enough, but caring for a baby as well was… almost unimaginable for me. The thing is, I was unaccustomed to a hard life then. It was all so new to me, and I was scared. Terrified, even. I couldn't believe it was happening to me, that I was trapped in that—"

She shook her head. She was getting away with herself.

"Anyway, I'm used to it now. Hanging Dog doesn't scare me anymore. But back then, I was younger, more naïve. I couldn't cope. So one day, I put her down, and then I just walked away." She raised her head and looked at him. "I abandoned her, Byakuya-sama, and I haven't seen her since."

Silence reigned.

Hisana looked away. If Byakuya chose to release her from his embrace now because he found her too repulsive, she wouldn't blame him, even if it would destroy her.

She had only herself to blame.

Then—

"I know."

Hisana turned rigid at his calmly uttered words. Whatever she had been expecting, it hadn't been this.

"W–what?" she choked.

"Some time ago, one of my retainers found the place you stayed in empty," he said matter-of-factly. "And Akagi Kikyō approached him. She informed him you were probably out searching for your sister."

"Obā-chan?" Hisana gaped. Her fiancé actually knew Obā-chan's name. "When… When exactly was this?"

"A day before you first met my retainer," he answered mildly.

Hisana's stomach dropped.

That had been before she'd been given the haori, the sandals, and the bentos for the first time. That had been eons ago, before her romantic relationship with Byakuya had ever commenced.

It also meant that Obā-chan had known all along—or at least suspected—that Hisana had received gifts from a wealthy suitor, at least one wealthy enough to have retainers working under him.

"I don't understand," she said at last weakly. "You knew from the start?"

"Yes." He sounded as straightforward, placid and calm as ever, almost like they were talking about nothing but the weather.

"And you still wanted to be with me?" Hisana said hoarsely.

"Yes."

His voice remained unruffled; plaintive.

Hisana felt hot tears leak from her violet eyes.

She hadn't had anyone love her like this before, with something so pure, so unconditional and so unadulterated. Underneath those layers of elitism, arrogance and regality was a giving man who didn't always discriminate, and the stark contrast was what wholly captured her heart. She hadn't even realised that other than loving someone, she could be loved in return as well.

She'd been so preoccupied with viewing him as the man she loved that she hadn't ever once thought of him as the man who loved her.

Hisana turned around determinedly in his arms, wanting to kiss him face-to-face now. Unexpectedly, she felt the walls around her spin, and she gasped as she slipped further into the splashing water.

Byakuya caught her at once, his concerned slate grey eyes filling her vision.

"I'm sorry," she said, slightly dazedly from her dizzy spell. "I think I've been in the bath a bit too long, Byakuya-sama…"

He didn't say anything further, but slid an arm under the crook of her knees and carefully scooped her slim, nude frame fully up into his arms, then headed back to the edge of the pool.

Hisana lay with her head nestled against his broad shoulder, breathing his scent greedily through the glossy raven strands of his hair, too content to care about her renounced modesty anymore.

Even if she never managed to find a place here in the noble Kuchiki House, or within Seireitei, she had a place in his heart.

And that was all she needed.

* * *

 _:tbc_ :

* * *

 **A/N:** By the way, I did not pull the marriage administration procedures outta my ass, haha. The details come from the Bleach light novel, _We Do Knot Always Love You._ Plenty of details pertaining to their marriage in this fic are derived from that amazing book.


	11. Chapter 11: Stomach Bug

**A/N:** This takes place far, far into the future of previous chapters. I do like jumping all over the timeline and playing with its events, haha. Also, thank you for your review, lone reviewer. :)

 **Verse:** 'Half-Canon'.

* * *

It had all started one day over breakfast.

Even though they had been married for over half a year now, it still felt wonderfully surreal to Hisana whenever she ate breakfast with her husband. They normally awoke at different times—she, between eight to nine in the morning, and he, at half past five, to head for the Sixth Division. Hisana had tried countless times to awaken at the time he did so that she could see him off, but her body never cooperated, and she always overslept past that time. She'd then asked him to wake her up when he did, but he never obliged.

Hisana didn't even feel people were biologically equipped to wake up so early. As far she was concerned, the soldiers of the Gotei Thirteen were damned machines. It was true her husband was a particular stickler for punctuality, but she was also aware that all of the Shinigami had to report for duty by latest seven in the morning. It sounded brutal to her.

But this morning had been special. It was one of the few days a week where he either didn't have to head so early for the Sixth Division, or he didn't have to go at all in order to devote his attention to private business related to the Kuchiki House.

Hisana cherished those days, since they provided those blessed mornings where she got to enjoy breakfast, which she perpetually ate alone, with Byakuya. Every minute shared with him was a minute she dearly treasured.

The two of them had been having breakfast from individual food trays on the table, Hisana daintily plucking boiled spinach with her bamboo chopsticks and bringing it to her lips, when the unexpected wave of nausea hit her.

She froze, the chopsticks halfway to her mouth.

Hisana was instantly aware of her husband's gaze upon her, while Akari and Seike, standing in the banquet hall with them, appeared quizzical.

"Hisana-sama?" Akari asked, mystified. "Is everything all right?"

Hisana wanted to answer, but the nausea was overwhelming, and she feared she'd hurl all over the table if she so much as tried to speak.

She slammed the chopsticks onto the table, the morsel of boiled spinach thrown aside, and then, to her mortification, gagged audibly, one hand flying to cover her mouth.

"Hisana-sama!" Akari sounded horrified. "What's wrong?"

"N–Nothing," Hisana forced out. It was the truth. The nausea had abruptly passed, almost like it had never been there, leaving her more embarrassed than ever at her actions.

She felt a familiar warm hand pressing onto her back then, stroking the curve of her spine gently, and she looked up to see Byakuya gazing intently down at her.

"Are you all right?" he said calmly.

"Yes, I'm fine," Hisana said hastily. She could feel her cheeks burning. How impudent she'd been, gagging over the food the chefs under the Kuchiki House had so painstakingly prepared. Back in the Rukon District, such a meal would have been an impossible luxury, and yet here she was, gagging in front of the man who had upgraded her life completely. "I'm so sorry, Byakuya-sama…"

With his hand still resting on her back, his slate grey eyes flickered towards Akari. "Get her a cup of warm plain water."

"There's no need—" Hisana protested, but Akari bowed deeply.

"Understood, Byakuya-sama!" she chorused, then scampered off, the tatami creaking beneath her feet.

"I'm honestly fine, Byakuya-sama," Hisana added placatingly. "I feel back to normal now."

It was peculiar, though. Where had that nausea come from? Surely it couldn't have been food poisoning. She'd shared the exact same dinner with her husband last night, the latter whom remained unaffected today, not to mention the Kuchiki chefs were renowned for the freshness and high hygiene standards of their culinary offerings.

They wouldn't be able to afford the consequences otherwise, considering they served one of the Four Noble Houses.

And it wasn't as if she was averse or allergic to the breakfast items today—rice, boiled spinach adorned with soy sauce and dried bonito flakes, _tamagoyaki_ , miso soup, salt-grilled sea bream—since she'd consumed each and every one of them before, and had been perfectly fine.

So if it wasn't food poisoning or food allergies, what was that…?

Hisana was certain that Byakuya had arrived at a conclusion similar to hers, though his blasé visage revealed nothing of his thoughts. Seike, too, said nothing, but his eyes behind those round spectacles were fixed on his master, a strange emotion Hisana couldn't decipher shining in them.

Byakuya glanced wordlessly at his steward, his slender hand still on Hisana's back, but he made no comment at what he saw in the latter's wrinkled face.

Hisana was puzzled. She felt as if a silent exchange had transpired between master and servant, only she had no idea what.

The girl debated asking them about it, but decided at last that she was probably reading too much into the situation.

It was probably nothing significant at all.

* * *

To her confusion, however, the strangeness didn't end there.

The next morning, Hisana overslept. And by overslept, she didn't mean waking up later than half past five in the morning, which was the time her husband awoke.

She meant awakening at twelve in the afternoon, which had never, _ever_ , happened before unless she'd been ill.

"You must have been very tired last night, Hisana-sama," Akari, sitting by her bedside, had said kindly, seeing Hisana's aghast expression.

"I wasn't…" Hisana, sitting up on the futon, ran a bewildered hand through her mussed ebony locks. She hadn't felt exceptionally tired the night before, no more than usual. She'd made love with Byakuya once, and then they'd both retired for the night. Technically one round of lovemaking was considered tame for their regular routine, so she couldn't ascribe her oversleeping today to that.

But what was more bizarre was how sluggish she felt for the rest of the day even though she'd awoken late. She'd planned to head for the Rukon District today to hunt for her sister after she balanced the business accounts for the Kuchiki shops and boutiques, but for some reason, couldn't seem to find the energy to focus on computing the balance sheet, and ended up staring blearily at the numbers the rest of the afternoon.

Originally, Byakuya himself and a few related personnel under him would handle the business accounts. Money attracted money, and the Kuchiki retail establishments were doing extremely well in their trade purveying various goods, with their primary clientele being other high-ranking aristocrats in Kizokugai. Ever since Hisana had been engaged to marry into the family, however, she'd insisted on learning how to handle the financial accounts in her then-fiancé's stead.

It was the least she could do as the Lady of the House, and to lessen the heavy burdens on her lover's shoulders.

Still, it was intimidating, to say the least, to handle and calculate the staggering amounts of profit the Kuchiki House earned monthly, which were easily enough to purchase several residences in Seireitei. A mistake on her part would imply disastrous ramifications. This was why Byakuya himself would look through the accounts once she was done balancing them.

And she would sit beside him like a nervous wreck, fearing he'd uncover any serious miscalculations she'd made. He was much, much faster than she was, those long, dexterous fingers flying over the calculator with accurate precision as he moved swiftly from one equation to another. Thanks to the Technological Development Department in the Twelfth Division, they'd invented very handy mobile calculators for members of Seireitei that was ahead of even the Living World.

Yet sometimes her husband didn't even need the calculator; it'd take her a couple of seconds to realise he'd moved onto the next computation already with new values he'd derived mentally.

He was meticulous, clever and quick, which Hisana had initially assumed came from years of experience of closing the financial accounts, but she'd been at this for a over half a year now and she still wasn't anywhere as fast.

He had never reprimanded her whenever he unearthed a mistake she made, even the severe ones that threw off most of her other subsequent calculations. He merely crossed out the incorrect number she'd written and continued with the rest of the calculations, while she apologised fervently from beside him. She definitely deserved a rebuke for that, in her opinion. She was, after all, aware that his subordinates were often on the receiving end of his disapprobation for any mistakes they made.

But Byakuya never said anything to criticise her, his demeanour as unflappable as ever instead of showing signs of disapproval.

Regardless, this drove a determined Hisana to ensure that the balance sheet was perfectly totalled and calculated when she handed it to him for his inspection. She had already summed up the assets for every respective shop under this month's balance sheet, which consisted of current, fixed and intangible assets as well as the investments the Kuchiki House had made, and she'd planned to wrap up the liabilities and equity today before she headed for the Rukon District.

Only she felt strangely lethargic, and found herself on the verge of dozing off several times throughout the day. As a result, she kept recalculating the entries on the balance sheet in case she'd made a blunder from her sleepiness.

Hisana had also asked for some tea to keep her awake, but to her bafflement, Akari had brought her a Japanese ceramic cup of red tea instead of the customary matcha, which defeated the purpose since red tea was caffeine-free. Nonetheless, it went against Hisana's nature to complain, and she'd simply taken the tea with thanks and went about with her work.

Unsurprisingly, her fatigue had not been alleviated, and by the time dinner approached and the Captain had returned to the Manor from the Sixth Division, she was still working on the balance sheet. She would have preferred to forego dinner in favour of concentrating on her work had her husband not ordered her to put the accounts aside. When it came to her meals, he was always resolute in ensuring she ate.

Reluctantly, she'd gone for dinner, the only comfort being that she was dining with her beloved. Some nights he returned late, which meant she had to have dinner by herself. She'd always questioned him upon his return if he'd had dinner at the Sixth Division Barracks—she hated the idea of him missing meals just as much as he did her. As far as she was concerned, he needed sustenance more than she did since he possessed vast spiritual power compared to her almost negligible capacity, not to mention his responsibilities far outweighed hers. If not for her sister, she would have close to nothing to do at home.

And then, on that very night, another strange occurrence followed.

It had happened when their individual dinner trays had been placed before them. Hisana's was slightly different from Byakuya's; hers had been specially prepared Okinawa soba topped with fish cake, a humongous slice of pork belly, slivered scallion, and pickled ginger, while his had been spicy soba noodles with fresh coriander and sesame seeds, accompanied by eggs sprinkled generously with seven-flavour chilli pepper.

The first thing that hit Hisana was the strong scent of the chilli.

The second thing that hit her was overwhelming nausea. She had long grown used to that smell, so she had no clue why she felt so violently ill now in response to it.

She recoiled from the table, her hand flying to her mouth once more, and—unable to help herself—gagged. She was dimly aware of the servants' alarm, and Byakuya moving swiftly to her side.

"Take the eggs away," he said sharply to Seike, who obeyed immediately. The old man picked up the plate containing the eggs and hurried out of the banquet hall with it.

Byakuya had guessed correctly. The moment Seike disappeared with the eggs, the smell faded, and gradually so did Hisana's nausea.

She lowered her hand, feeling the faint heat of shame creep upon her cheeks. What the hell was wrong with her? She knew by now that Byakuya enjoyed spicy foods, including the seven-flavour chilli pepper, and she'd _gagged_ at it? It was bad enough that she'd made a scene, but she'd driven her husband to remove a dish he was partial to. If not for him, she would have nothing but stale bread to eat each day at the Rukon District, but instead of being grateful, she'd infringed on his meals too.

What was going on with her stupidly sensitive gag reflex, anyway? She'd never had an issue like this before. Was she going through some sort of a stomach bug?

Hisana turned to the Kuchiki Head, and bent her ebony head contritely.

"I'm so sorry, Byakuya-sama," she forced out wretchedly. "I don't what came over me, but I am so, so sorry I ruined your dinner…"

He held her chin and gently lifted her head, so that her large miserable violet orbs met his slate grey eyes, which were uncharacteristically softer than usual.

"Are you feeling all right now?" he said quietly.

"Yes," Hisana responded instantly. "I–I don't know what's wrong with me recently." She exhaled frustratedly.

He made no remark of his own, but reached out and cupped the side of her heart-shaped face in his hand, gently caressing her cheek with his calloused thumb. It had been more than half a year since their wedding, but his touch never failed to spike her heartbeat and ignite heat in her belly.

Seike returned then with a plate containing a thin sheet of fried tofu devoid of any spices, which he placed carefully in Byakuya's tray. The sight of the new dish made Hisana's stomach roll in guilt, and she averted her eyes remorsefully towards her own tray.

"Eat, Hisana."

She started then at her husband's smooth, deep voice, the latter having let go of her, and she hastily turned and grabbed her chopsticks, not daring to disobey.

"… Itadakimasu, Byakuya-sama," Hisana whispered, putting her hands together.

It was also a desperate prayer that nothing would go wrong again to ruin his dinner.

* * *

Fortunately, the rest of dinner proceeded without a hitch.

She was now in the study with him after they had finished dinner, working furiously on the balance sheet while he went through his own voluminous paperwork from the Sixth Division. Looking at their individual tables made her want to laugh despairingly at the disparity; his papers, so neatly and impeccably stacked, and hers, absolutely haywire, with random sheets scattered haphazardly. She wasn't typically this messy, but her mind was awfully frazzled today, and she couldn't keep track of all the details needed for her calculations.

Hisana jabbed the buttons of her calculator, then jotted down the value onto her paper with her brush. She didn't get why she was still so fatigued—it was only seven in the evening. She'd taken an entire day working on the liabilities and equities of all the shops when usually, she was certain she could finish them in a few hours if she put her mind to it.

Was it because of the strange stomach bug she was having?

She really needed some caffeine, but Akari had served them red tea again in the study. Hisana had waited fervently for her husband to comment on the deviation from the matcha they normally had, but to her puzzlement and disappointment, he hadn't said a word.

If even he had said nothing, then she could hardly complain, could she?

Putting her calculator down, Hisana bit her lip in growing frustration when she saw that the equity and liabilities didn't tally with the assets on the balance sheet for the fabric shop. She tamped down the atypical urge to slam the calculator on the desk. Seriously? She'd been pecking away at the fabric shop for ages already!

She forcefully stifled a yawn, and rubbed her eyes. This was getting ridiculous. She was considering whether to muster the guts to ask for some caffeine after all when she realised belatedly that her husband had risen from his _zabuton._

She jumped, utterly taken aback that she hadn't felt Byakuya approach. Before she could so much as utter a word, however, he had knelt down before her, dipping his raven head, and next thing she knew, his cool lips were on hers, silencing whatever she'd been about to say.

The months of marriage had done little to subdue her passion for him; if anything, it seemed to have only strengthened her feelings. Nothing stopped time quite like the magical sensation of his lips against hers. It was difficult to think of the financial accounts she should be doing when he was intoxicating her like this, his sensuous mouth delving and coaxing her petal lips open. She obeyed mindlessly, her mind already disoriented from her work earlier, feeling his tongue slide seamlessly through the hot wet cavern of her mouth.

Unhesitatingly, she twined her tongue with his, craving intimate contact with a man often so detached and aloof. She could feel the familiar possessiveness welling up within her person, of wanting to claim him in that act, where no one else, not even individuals from the Kuchiki House or the Sixth Division, could have him. Here, while they kissed, he was neither a Captain nor the Head of a Noble House.

He was just the man she loved, and whom she would continue loving fiercely for the rest of her life.

She was almost crushed for a second when his mouth abruptly left hers, but was immediately gratified again when he planted more wet, suckling kisses down the alabaster column of her neck. She threaded her thin hands into his lengthy ebony tresses, marvelling at how silky the male's hair was. Her hand then skimmed across his smooth skin of his cheek, fingers reverently tracing the angular planes of his face and the strong, defined jawline.

"Byakuya-sama," Hisana breathed unsteadily, struggling to regain her bearings through the cloud of lust over her senses as he maintained his ministrations on her neck. "I need to… The accounts…"

In reply, his slender hand went to the cord tying her one-piece _hadajuban_ together under her pink haori.

It always fascinated Hisana that the regal, pristine and taciturn Captain was a completely different person in bed. He was nearly always law-abiding, very critical of his own conduct as well as that of his peers and subordinates—traits she admired greatly—and despised unruliness, rowdiness, and lawlessness. His elegance and aristocracy in both appearance and mannerisms further cemented the perception that he himself was above any forms of impropriety.

That perception was wrong.

In bed, the austere, strait-laced man was gone, and in his place was an insatiable deviant who very much enjoyed partaking in carnal debauchery with her. Hisana would never have thought someone as controlled as Kuchiki Byakuya to possess such an appetite—according to Akari, he hadn't even had a courtesan before he'd met Hisana, which was apparently a very common practice for noblemen.

For that, Hisana was selfishly glad.

Yet over the six months of their marriage, they'd made love through various positions, and ventured in bondage, edging and power exchange. They had not explored anything too extreme in terms of sexual kinks, hence her husband had not been as unorthodox in that regard, but it was the frequency and the way the lovemaking had been executed that drove her insane.

But Hisana was a perfect match for him, because she was as insatiable as he was in spite of her own demureness. Her husband had introduced her to a delicious world that she had no interest in backing out of, so long as this occurred behind closed doors.

Thus, she made no further protest when Byakuya adroitly undid the cord of her _hadajuban,_ and when he rained a path of fiery kisses down her creamy neck and onto the exposed swell of her breasts, where the sides of her cotton slip had loosened. His hand reached up to cup the miniature mound of her left breast.

The sudden pain had been entirely unexpected, and it jostled her right out of her lust-addled daze.

With a cry, Hisana shrank back instinctively from Byakuya's long-fingered hand, shocked by the rush of pain that had seized her breast at his touch.

He stopped at once, his slate grey eyes widening almost imperceptibly at the visible pain in her face.

Hisana inhaled a laboured breath. She hadn't noticed this earlier, but her breasts currently felt sore and tender, something that she'd never experienced prior.

"I'm sorry, Byakuya-sama," she finally choked out. "My…" Too mortified to say it aloud, she gingerly touched the fringe of her cotton _hadajuban_ hanging by her left breast to indicate what she was referring to. "They're very sore and sensitive today. I don't know why…"

He regarded her silently for a moment, and then she saw a strange comprehension cross his features, the faint shock fading to be replaced by his usual calm, measured mien.

Not for once, Hisana wondered what conclusion he'd arrived to from her revelation. She has no clue why her traitorous body was behaving the way it did as of late.

"Come here."

Hisana obeyed, shuffling back into his arms.

"Are you still in pain?" he murmured, taking her hand into his bigger one.

"Not anymore," she reassured him quickly.

He said nothing more. Instead, he let go of her hand and reached down to the opening of her garment, brushing either side further away from her exposed breasts, which fell and rose harshly at her nerves and excitement.

Then he lifted Hisana up so that she was straddling him on his lap, and she felt the area between her legs dampen.

This was both of their favorite lovemaking position.

Instead of disrobing himself, however, he elevated her slim, petite body slightly with one hand on her narrow waist and the other supporting her shoulder blade, and nuzzled the swell of her small breasts that were now positioned near his face. Shockingly, there was no pain this time—he was very cautious, languorous, and gentle. She felt his tongue, ever-so lightly, trace the pebbled peak of her nipple, and she gasped.

Sore and tender as her breasts were, it also meant they were much more sensitive. She felt the touch on her nipple through a potent electric current right down to her loins.

He moved on to her other breast, the tip of his tongue tracing a feather-light trail across the milky underside of her flesh and making her shudder uncontrollably due to her hypersensitivity. Her gasps escalated into a high-pitched moan when his heated tongue finally brushed the erected rosy point of her nipple, then slowly laved it again with the same feather-light strokes.

Those faint, fleeting strokes teasing her skin had never felt more acute, and she found herself writhing slightly in pleasure and breathing hard from where she was being elevated in his grasp.

Then Byakuya lifted her further up again effortlessly—she only weighed eighty pounds at most—and swept the disorganised sheets of the financial accounts she'd been working on to one side of her desk, a move that shocked Hisana immensely considering how strictly he valued all business pertaining to the Kuchiki House, and placed her onto the newly accommodated space on said desk. Then, under the separated skirts of her _hadajuban_ , he parted her fair thighs, opening her up to him.

Hisana sat there, panting, her hands splayed on the elm wood of her desk as she canted her hips to allow Byakuya to slide the now soaked cotton fabric of her underwear past her skinny legs, his slate grey eyes darkening when he took in the sight revealed behind her underwear. He raised her bare, shapely leg and lowered it over his broad shoulder, and clasped her narrow hip securely in one male hand to help keep her balance.

Hisana arched her back then, sprawled in the disarray of her unravelled cotton slip and pink haori, when she felt him part the dripping folds of her labia with his deft fingers, followed by the caress of his tongue right where she needed him most.

It had always floored and stricken her to have Kuchiki Byakuya, a man whose station towered so highly above hers, kneeling before her, his patrician raven head dipped in between her thighs. The entire scenario was terribly surreal. She liked and disliked it at the same time—he should not have to degrade himself for someone as undeserving as herself. Yet he was unnervingly good at what he did, reducing her to a floundering, moaning mess on the desk as he relentlessly flicked the swollen, engorged bud of her clitoris with his teeth and tongue.

And throughout it all, those piercing slate grey eyes bored unapologetically into her glazed violet eyes, sending her heart into wild cartwheels inside her chest. Abashedly, she wanted to cover her face with her hands and hide her vulnerable expression from him, but she knew the consequences of such an action from past experiences, and it took everything she had to refrain herself.

And when her husband finally ceased his flicking to suck her blood-filled clitoris hard into his mouth, Hisana came apart with a loud, high-pitched scream, her orgasm wracking her svelte body unrepentantly, her delicate features scrunched up with ecstasy. For all of her reservedness and diffidence, she was very vocal in bed—not for lack of trying, the diminutive woman was unable to stop herself from the embarrassing noises that spilled from her lips, especially when she reached orgasm. She bucked her hips uncontrollably into his mouth, feeling herself release an ungodly amount of juices, which he licked clean.

Soon, her climax dissipated away, Hisana shuddering as he lapped lazily at the still-fluttering folds of her sex.

"Byakuya-sama," she croaked. "I want to… Please…"

 _Please make love to me._

He slowly released his grip on her slim hips, his features intent but otherwise cryptic as ever as he withdrew from her inner thighs. She slid down from the desk on wobbly legs, her timid hands reaching out for the sash tying together his _kinagashi_. Since returning to the Kuchiki Manor, he had changed out of his _shihakushō_ , windflower silk scarf and Captain's haori into an informal plain white haori over a pale blue _kinagashi._

It took her several seconds to undo the sash, her hands shaky with nervousness and eagerness. She separated the layers of silk including his white underrobe, her mouth turning dry at the sleek, lean muscles underneath. Byakuya was almost as fair as she was, his body a beautiful work of pale marble; he'd never been bulky, but was rather sleek and incredibly toned, like a rangy cat.

But what captivated Hisana the most was his evident arousal. In light of his unreadable, almost serene mien, this was the most prominent giveaway that he wasn't as unaffected as he appeared.

He made no move—no indication of what he planned to do next. Her heart beating rapidly, she knelt down, fingertips meekly tracing the velvety length of his arousal, and took him into her little mouth.

Hisana loved doing this for him. After everything he had done for her, and despite her financial inability to repay his love, this was the one thing that she could provide for him, and to show how much she loved him in return.

She took in more of him that she could, her tongue shyly probing the underside of his impressive girth, and sucked on him as vigorously as possible, wanting to maximise his pleasure. Unlike Byakuya, it was difficult for her to muster the courage to make eye contact with him during the few times she provided oral sex (yet he did it every single time he provided it for her), so all she was aware of was his slender hand softly stroking her short ebony hair.

Today, something made her look up for the first time, and her pulse stuttered in her veins at the sight of his lidded dark eyes gazing down at her.

"Enough."

Hisana blinked when his long, adroit fingers took hold of her chin, moving her slick mouth gently off him. She wasn't surprised he'd done it; for some reason, her husband did not like spending in her mouth.

He much preferred doing so inside of her.

Byakuya's hands went to the sides of her narrow waist and he picked her up into his arms so that she was straddling him like before. She had grown wet once more and needed relief again, her own arms winding around his neck eagerly for what was to come. His fingers caressed her weeping, slippery pink folds, the tip of his middle finger teasing her vaginal opening for a brief heartbeat, making her moan.

Satisfied she was lubricated enough, her husband withdrew his now soaked fingers, and brought them to her lips.

Trained by now to know what he expected of her, Hisana sucked his long, nimble fingers clean, tasting herself—sweet, salty and musky at the same time—on him, her heart-shaped face suffused with colour.

"Byakuya-sama…" she implored, once he pulled his fingers with an audible _pop_ from her swollen lips. "Please…"

She needed him inside her—needed release again.

He kissed her then, those minty lips devouring her pliant ones. Her head spun throughout the kiss as she felt him lowering her body onto him, seating her onto the broad head of his arousal, her sodden folds parting bit by bit to accommodate her lover as he sheathed himself unhurriedly into her tight, slick channel. She was so tiny compared to him that penetration was always difficult at first, but her husband never rushed the process, taking his time to ensure she was sufficiently lubricated from foreplay and to slowly hilt himself into her.

Hisana moaned drunkenly again, twining both her legs around his waist. There was nothing in the world that beat having Kuchiki Byakuya inside of her. He was always so aloof, so distant, so seemingly removed from the rest of the world that even she felt far away from him at times.

But he couldn't be any closer to her now, with him literally inside of her, their robes splayed out from their joined bodies in a blend of pale blue and pink, so that she couldn't tell where he began and she ended.

Once he had fully hilted himself, he paused for a moment, giving her time to adjust to his entry, spending the time instead to continue tasting her lips in a dizzyingly sweet kiss.

The dizzying sensation only heightened when his hands, which had remained on her small waist, lifted her up while she was still impaled on him.

Then Byakuya brought her down in a swift, fluid motion, and she broke off the kiss to let out a little scream of euphoria, her violet eyes rolling back as the crown of his arousal struck her internal sweet spot head-on.

By now, with their having made love in this position countless times, her husband knew every inch of her pint-sized body like the back of his hand, and he continued lifting her slight weight and bringing her down onto his erection, hitting that elusive G-spot now and then through the angle he was more than familiar with. His slate grey eyes were almost the colour of obsidian now from stark masculine desire as he stared hungrily at her flushed, dazed visage, her tight passageway squeezing him in a vice-grip with every pistoning movement of her hips. It was the most visceral emotion she ever saw on his face.

"Byakuya-sama— _aah_ —I'm–I'm going to..." Hisana could feel it now, the simmering, boiling tension that was about to erupt within her lower body and provide her with the sweet relief she so craved.

She was so close; she needed to come...

In response, he bent his head and, timing his ministrations, licked one of her oversensitive rosy nipples right as her little breasts bounced faintly up from his bringing her down onto him, the head of his shaft plundering that sacred spot once more.

 _Yes!_

" _Byakuya_ —!" Hisana cried, unable to finish her statement with the proper honorific the moment her powerful orgasm hit her.

Her inner walls clamped down onto him like a snug, heated glove and she wailed, her muscles bursting into a series of sporadic contractions and causing her to squirt around him. As she always did whenever she came in this position, one of her legs, originally twined around his waist, straightened and turned ramrod-stiff, her toes curling from her intense climax. He let go of one side of her waist and gently stroked that leg, soothing her through the ferocious pleasure rampaging through her thin frame.

Hisana could tell, however, from his narrowed grey eyes that he was doing his utmost not to let her milk him into completion with her. Feeling naughty, she clenched harder onto him, wanting him to lose himself as well.

His grey eyes went sharply to her face, narrowing further dangerously, and then the hand touching her leg moved towards where they were joined to fondle the tiny sensitized, engorged bud that was her clitoris peeking from the top of her vulva, and she cried out.

With her just coming down from an orgasm, the stimulation was near unbearable, and she pleaded breathlessly for him to stop.

"Byakuya-sama, my… my… I'm sore," Hisana gasped raggedly. She was referring to her breasts, which were more tender and sensitive than ever from being jostled by all of her up-and-down motions of riding him. This had never happened before, since she wasn't endowed enough in that aspect for it to be a concern, so she had no idea why she was suffering from this now.

Fortunately for her, her lover understood what she meant. So much of their communication came from reading between the lines, what with his reticence and her shyness—how he'd asked for her hand in marriage had been a prime example.

Byakuya carefully hoisted her off of him, and she groaned, feeling empty and bereft without him inside of her. However, he lowered her onto the floor, placing her head onto the _zabuton_ she'd been sitting on earlier, then reached over to his own _zabuton_ and slid it under her back as support, her pink haori spread out prettily beneath her.

Then, hefting both of her legs with his hands to wrap them around his waist, he entered her again in a slow, deliberate stroke, his own white haori cascading down either side of her.

Hisana whimpered in pleasure, her hands tangling themselves in his long jet-black hair. This time, with her lying on her back with the cushions supporting her, her breasts weren't as affected by his thrusts, and she dug her heels into the small of his back at the wondrous friction, her vision turning white every time he managed to collide into her sweet spot inside of her womb.

She found herself hurtling towards her peak rapidly, and her hands fell from his raven mane to clutch blindly at his robed back as a final thrust from him—as well as the pads of his fingers unexpectedly moving down and rubbing her clit close to where they were merged together—sent her toppling off the edge and sobbing his name as she did so.

This time, Byakuya followed her off the edge, his lips finding hers roughly, and she held him closer to her when she felt the heady liquid warmth of him filling her up. She loved the sensation; she couldn't help but feel possessive being able to take into her a piece of him as a souvenir even after their lovemaking sessions had concluded.

Her Captain was just that: _hers_.

Coming down from the sexual high, Hisana could feel lethargy creeping back into her senses, this time in renewed force. No sedative was more effective to her than after sex. She was always near comatose post coitus and was absolutely unable to function afterwards, especially at night.

Her legs slackened from around him and began to slide down, as did her arms. She felt him pull out of her, the tantalising heat of his body warmth fading, followed by a rustle in the distance as he turned away and deftly retied his _obi_ belt over his robes. It was inhuman how he was still able to function normally after an intense lovemaking session like that, she thought hazily.

Then he approached her again, crouching down before her supine form, taking a wordless second to observe her, she assumed, though it was hard to tell with her sleepy doe eyes half-lidded. His arm went under her shoulders and the other under the crook of her knees, and he promptly scooped her up into his arms, her pale pink haori fluttering beneath her.

Hisana was too exhausted and spent to even so much as stir. All she wanted to do now was fall into a deep slumber as her mind grew increasingly blank and her eyes grew heavy.

She was already asleep by the time Byakuya laid her gently onto her futon.

* * *

When Hisana awoke again, it was to bright sunlight illuminating the room.

She blinked drowsily, turning her head on the pillow to take in her surroundings. Her heart nearly leapt right out of her chest in shock when she saw her husband sitting on a _zabuton_ by her bedside, watching her. He appeared as unruffled and flawless as ever in his _shihakushō_ and silvery windflower silk scarf.

Hisana sat up at once on the futon, her thick comforter creasing atop her, staring at him in self-conscious bewilderment.

"Byakuya-sama…?" she stammered, wondering if she was still dreaming. What was he doing here? He was usually away at the Sixth Division before the sun was even up.

Maybe she _was_ still dreaming, her subconscious allowing her to see the one person she fervently wished she could see more of every morning.

Then another horrifying realisation struck her.

"The accounts!" Hisana gasped, scrambling from under the comforter. She couldn't believe she had fallen asleep before completing them the night before. It had only been seven in the evening when she'd ceased working on them in exchange for… other more pressing activities. "I need to—I haven't—"

"I've finished them."

Hisana stopped short, taken off-guard by his rich baritone voice.

"W–What do you mean?" she asked, flabbergasted. "When?"

"Last night," he said simply.

Last night? Meaning after he'd put her to bed, when they had finished their…?

Hisana froze, her cheeks red.

Byakuya knew. He always knew that she fell asleep right after their lovemaking. He had to know what would happen if he seduced her, as he'd done so last night by initiating the kiss.

Had it all been premeditated from the start?

"Byakuya-sama," Hisana began, flushing harder. "I wanted to finish the accounts. You didn't have to… I mean, I know I was taking longer than usual, but I would have gotten it done eventually. I really hate troubling you when you're busy enough as it is…"

"Do you know why you were taking longer than usual, Hisana?"

She blinked, taken aback. That hadn't been what she'd been expecting him to say at all.

"I've been a little tired lately," Hisana admitted. "I'm sorry, Byakuya-sama. I think I'm down with a bit of a… a stomach bug, or something."

"You don't have a stomach bug," he said mildly.

Hisana stared at him uncomprehendingly. What was Byakuya trying to get at?

"Then…" Hisana squirmed under the startling intensity at which he was gazing at her. "Do you mean you know what's wrong with me, Byakuya-sama?"

He studied her unfathomably for a moment.

"Do you remember when your last cycle was, Hisana?" he murmured.

Suddenly, Hisana couldn't breathe. Her throat had constricted, her mouth dry.

When… When had it been since her last cycle again? She never kept track of it since it was highly irregular as a result of her hard life in the Rukon District and the consequential sporadic meals she'd eaten there.

Since marrying Byakuya, she'd gained quite a bit of weight as a result of a daily well-rounded diet, and her cycles had thus grown more regular, but she'd never bothered to keep track of them before and she sure hadn't started now.

Thinking back now, Hisana could not for the life of her remember when her last menstrual period had been.

Taking note of her dumbfounded face, Byakuya spoke again plainly.

"It's been six weeks."

She was not surprised he kept track, considering how attuned he was to everything about her.

Staring dumbly at him, the past events coalesced in her mind.

Her nausea.

Her food aversion.

Her fatigue.

Her sore and tender breasts.

Hisana opened her mouth weakly, unable to process the truth. How long had her husband known, or at least, suspected it?

" _Byakuya-sama…?_ "

* * *

 _:tbc:_


	12. Chapter 12: The Sixth Division

**A/N:** This is a direct sequel to the tenth chapter.

 **Verse:** 'Half-Canon'.

* * *

The next day, Hisana left for the Personnel Record Administration Bureau with a dutiful Akari by her side in order to submit the marriage registration for individuals residing in Seireitei. The Administration Bureau was located in the Seventh Sector of Seireitei, hence it was near where the Kuchiki Manor was in Kizokugai, which was situated at the Eastern end of the Sixth Sector.

Byakuya had departed the Manor early in the morning before Hisana had awoken again, but he had apparently left Akari with the relevant documents that he'd prepared and sealed for submission to the Administration Bureau. Akari had passed Hisana the envelope containing said documents over breakfast, saying resolutely that she would be accompanying Hisana as per Byakuya's instructions.

Hisana had thanked her, her chest awash with a delighted warmth that her fiancé had decided to entrust her with the submission after all. She'd entreated him several times as bravely as she could last night, to which he had given no definite answer. She hadn't dared to ask anymore after he'd centered her with that familiar level, piercing look that never failed to silence her every time.

But the fact that Akari had passed her the envelope this morning indicated that the Captain had actually agreed to her request.

Hisana would have been more overjoyed if not for the nightmare she'd had this morning, right before she'd woken up.

It was a recurring dream that she'd had almost every month when she'd first arrived at Soul Society, but which had gradually dwindled to at least once a year. The dream had, however, been slightly different this morning.

It started out the same: a mystery man, speaking in a distinctly menacing Kyoto dialect, his huge, rough hands around her neck, the rancid stench of alcohol on her face. It was always too dark to make out his features—either that, or she couldn't remember them anymore upon awakening from the nightmare.

But she could remember the things he said, and the acrid terror she always felt as his hands tightened around her throat, cutting off her airways. He'd warn her not to leave him, tell her she'd be sorry if she went through with the divorce, tell her that no restraining order could keep him away forever. And every word he said was punctuated with an agonizing squeeze on her delicate throat.

This time, he hadn't just said that. He'd concluded his threats with something new that she hadn't heard before.

" _If ya cheat on me, I'll fuckin' kill ya._ "

This was the first time he had explicitly said he would kill her. Prior to this, he'd only made vague threats about how she'd be sorry, but never anything as direct like this. She'd awoken alone in her futon that morning in cold sweat, her heart racing and her stomach tight with cold icy fear.

It wasn't difficult for Hisana to realise by now that these were memories, presumably of her past life. She remembered nothing of the life she'd had in the Living World, but she must have died in her mid-twenties since she'd been frozen in that age upon being sent to Hanging Dog. The girl hadn't the slightest clue how she'd died together with her infant sister. The only clues alluding to her past life were her dreams, which ensued very infrequently—she was sure it had been an entire year since the last one—which was why she forgot about them easily.

Hisana was also certain that her upcoming nuptials had triggered memories of her new dream this time.

She didn't understand why she was so petrified. Whatever had happened between herself and this man had taken place decades ago in the Living World, and should be of no consequence to her current circumstances. She'd never seen him in Hanging Dog, and she reckoned there was a high likelihood he had died of old age instead of dying young like she had.

But what if he hadn't, though? What if he'd died young too, and had been sent to another district in the Rukon District?

What if he had enrolled in the Shin'ō Academy and entered Seireitei as a Shinigami?

Hisana knew she was getting ahead of herself. She had no evidence of any of that. Chances were that he had died normally of old age. Even if he'd died young and been sent to the Rukon District, only a small minority of citizens in the Rukon District possessed the required spiritual power to become a Shinigami.

But it meant it wasn't impossible either.

And once the seed had planted in Hisana's mind, she couldn't dispel it no matter how she tried. She hadn't been as scared in the Rukon District since she'd never met the man from her nightmares throughout the decades of her stay, and mostly because she couldn't remember doing any of the things he'd warned her not to do.

As for this morning...

Hisana had tried her utmost to ignore the man's final chilling threat as she'd followed Akari to the Personnel Record Administration Bureau. She'd dressed down in a plain ginger robe tied with a green sash today, for she planned to head to the Rukon District afterwards to search for her sister. As much as she longed to wear her beautiful _kanzashi_ out, she knew it would be out of place in the gloomy and bleak streets of Hanging Dog, and she didn't want to attract unnecessary attention. There was a high chance that street thugs and other hoodlums alike would attempt to rob her of the _kanzashi_ if they saw such a precious accessory, and she just couldn't risk it.

Over breakfast, Akari had also handed Hisana a small jade medallion carved in the intricate outline of the Kuchiki crest, stating it was a pass Byakuya had prepared for her. It was to be shown to the gatekeeper Jidanbō Ikkanzaka guarding White Road Gate to Seireitei when she returned from the Rukon District. Jidanbō would allow her entry through a door in the gate upon seeing the pass.

Hisana had felt the warmth envelope her chest again. Like the _kanzashi_ , crafting the pass could not have been done so quickly, which meant her fiancé had already arranged for the pass to be made some time ago.

He'd known she would want to return to the Rukon District to continue searching for her sister even after she moved into the Kuchiki Manor.

Again, it was his close attentiveness to everything that constituted her person that made her heart flutter so much. She truly didn't think it was possible to love a person as deeply as she loved him. Tenderly, she'd tucked the jade medallion into the front of her robes, keeping it close to her bosom.

Upon reaching the Administration Bureau after fifteen minutes of walking, both women had taken note of the many departments segregated in the crowded official building. The place was packed to the brim with chattering Shinigami and non-Shinigami alike, judging by their attire, and all of them were headed in separate directions based on varying signboards on the walls, including one that indicated " _ **Registration of Residency in Seireitei**_ _"_.

Hisana had stopped short, staring at the sign.

"Don't I have to do that?" she queried worriedly.

"Please don't worry, Hisana-sama," Akari reassured her in hushed tones. "Byakuya-sama already took care of the necessary administration himself. Furthermore, since you're now under one of the Four Noble Houses, there are certain formalities that are exempt for yourself as compared to most individuals applying for a residency here. The Houses have some influence over such procedures instead of requiring the usual permit, you see."

Hisana bit her lip. She was beginning to finally grasp the magnitude of everything Byakuya had done for her, and she felt smaller than ever at the realisation.

She'd also wished that Akari would stop addressing her by that form of honorific, which was making her increasingly discomfited. Still, for now, the chagrined girl had decided against kicking up a public fuss about Akari's form of address.

The duo had then followed another signboard stating, " _ **Marriage Registration**_ ", and into the subsequent hallway the sign led to. There was an entrance door right at the end of the hallway.

They had instantly been handed two application forms by an administrative officer—clad in a black _shihakush_ ō—stationed by the door that needed to be filled out and sealed by both Hisana and her fiancé. The officer, impatient to move on to the newcomers behind the girls, had explained briskly that they would have to submit the filled-in application forms together with the other relevant documents they'd brought once they obtained a queue number and their queue number was called.

"Crap," Akari had said under her breath as she gently tugged Hisana aside.

"What do we do?" Hisana had asked mournfully, staring down at the application forms in her hand. "Do we wait for Byakuya-sama to come home this evening to fill in and seal his form, then return here again tomorrow?"

Calling the Kuchiki Manor _home_ was all still very alien, she thought. She wondered when she would ever get used to it.

"We could, but that would waste unnecessary time, Hisana-sama," Akari opined. "If I may say so, I think we should find Byakuya-sama now and have him complete the application form, then come back here straight after."

Hisana's violet eyes widened. "But he isn't home now. Isn't he at the…"

"The Sixth Division, yes," Akari confirmed. "If you like, we could go over there now, Hisana-sama. It's located at the Sixth Sector, so it's not that far from here."

Hisana hesitated. "I don't want to infringe on his work…"

"Oh, but please trust me, Hisana-sama," Akari said earnestly, "that Byakuya-sama, too, wants to have the _nyuseki_ completed as soon as possible. The sooner that happens, the sooner he can have you as his wife."

An embarrassed Hisana flushed a bright pink. "Akari-san, please… I'm sure that's not—"

She stopped.

 _If ya cheat on me, I'll fuckin' kill ya._

Hisana flinched at the unexpected memory, her heart rate accelerating. She could feel the pit of irrational fear seeping into her belly again.

"Hisana-sama?" Akari said, peering at her worriedly. "Are you all right? You look white as a sheet."

"I'm fine," Hisana said hastily, clutching the envelope and application forms closer to her chest. She was being ridiculous for allowing some distant memory from her past life to scare her. That faceless man belonged to a whole other world, and she refused to let some stranger control her now. She didn't even know anything about him other than from her nightmares. "All right. Shall we, um, go the Sixth Division, then?"

"Ah… yes," Akari said. She looked like she wanted to pursue the subject, but dropped it anyway with visible reluctance. "Please follow me, Hisana-sama."

Hisana hastened after the taller girl back down the hallway. She was feeling slightly on edge and apprehensive about heading to the Sixth Division; she had never stepped foot on the grounds belonging to Shinigami before. Since her arrival at Seireitei, she'd spent all her days cooped up inside the Kuchiki Manor, only leaving to venture the streets of Kizokugai twice, including today.

But she was also curious about the place her fiancé spent so much of his days at. If she had her way, she'd unravel every bit of his life, and gather the scattered fragments in her heart for safekeeping.

She had only gathered some details from the few days she'd been here. He woke up early in the morning, probably at dawn, though she wasn't sure what time because she was asleep then. After that he'd be gone for the rest of the day until the evening. By that time he'd return to the Manor, and take a bath. He'd have dinner, consisting of mostly spicy side-dishes. He didn't like dessert, so he didn't have any.

He'd spend his night in his study. Hisana always retired before him, too sleepy despite herself to stay up. She didn't know what time he slept, or what he specifically did in the study other than general paperwork, or even where else he might have gone while she had been asleep.

The bits of his life she had were painfully little. She wanted more. She wanted to know all there was to know about the reticent, arrogant, yet kind-hearted Captain.

She wanted everything.

Before long, the two women had left the Personnel Record Administration Bureau and treaded down the open streets towards the border of the Sixth Sector. The streets were so different from the Rukon District—they were much more vibrant and cheerful than the darkened, dingy Hanging Dog Hisana knew. The colossal walls and pillars comprising most of the sleek edifices within Seireitei were painted an almost blinding pale colour, and there were plum blossom trees planted everywhere. In spring, the flowers had fully blossomed, and they made for a lovely, breathtaking view, with pink petals falling and littering the ground.

Now and then the girls would pass an ambling Shinigami, making a skittish Hisana stiffen. None of the Shinigami paid the girls any attention, though. They merely strode on, their sheathed swords swinging on their hips.

Soon enough, Hisana and Akari had stopped at a long, high brick wall with a gable protruding in front of it. The top of the wall was roofed a cobalt blue, and so was the towering pediment on the top of the gable. Under the wide cobalt blue eaves of the pediment was the number six in kanji painted on the cream-coloured wall, and below the kanji was another smaller, more curved blue pediment framing twin doors.

Hisana swallowed as Akari lifted the knocker on one of the doors, and banged it heavily against the surface. Barely three seconds passed before Hisana heard the sound of footsteps, and then one of the doors creaked open.

A brawny, bearded Shinigami stood before them, dressed in the customary black _shihakushō_ , and he eyed the two women cynically, holding the door open.

"Yeah?" he grunted. "What do the two of you want?"

"We would like to speak to Kuchiki Taichō, please," Akari said.

The bushy eyebrows of the bearded Shinigami soared up.

"Huh?" he snorted, the cynicism deepening on his face as he took in the lack of _shihakushō_ they wore. "Who exactly are you, again?"

"We just want to see—"

"Do you think anyone can just come in here demanding to see Kuchiki Taichō?" he countered archly, cutting Akari off. "Know your place."

Hisana felt the insides of her stomach shrivelling. She immediately wanted to leave, but Akari didn't seem to share the sentiment.

"Excuse me!" Akari snapped, affronted. "First of all, I work personally under the Kuchiki House, and secondly, I'll have you know, Hisana-sama is—"

"Akari-san," Hisana interrupted hastily, grabbing the handmaid's arm. "It's okay. We can always wait for Byakuya-sama to come home. Let's not cause a scene."

"No, he has no right to turn us away!" Akari disagreed. "Hisana-sama, please show him your gate pass!"

By now, Hisana wanted nothing more than to leave. She didn't want to take out the pass as if she was flaunting it in the Shinigami's face. If there was one thing she hated, it was conflict, and she didn't want to force her way into the barracks when she was evidently unwelcomed here.

"Let's just leave, Akari-san," Hisana said softly. She bowed to the Shinigami. "Thank you for your time."

"Yeah, just leave already," he said. "If you two think you're the only women out here in Seireitei who want a piece of Kuchiki Taichō, then you've got another think coming."

Hisana truly felt ill then. Akari took a step towards him, her fists clenched and her cherubic face blazing with a rage Hisana never had thought possible on the sweet handmaid. She was clearly about to land a punch on the unapologetic Shinigami when a new voice sounded.

"What's going on here?"

Hisana blinked. She recognised that casual tenor voice instantly, though she hadn't heard it in a while.

The bearded Shinigami whirled around to face the newcomer behind him, and he bowed frantically to the latter. "Shirogane Fukutaichō!"

Shirogane peered past him to the women standing outside, the trademark black sunglasses perched on his nose. Recognition dawned on his face, and he broke into a friendly grin, waving at them. Hisana noticed a white armband tied around his raised bicep.

"Hisana-san!" he greeted her radiantly. "What a treat—I never thought I'd ever see you here at the Sixth Division. And you brought a friend too!"

"Shirogane-san," Hisana answered, smiling shyly at him. Both she and Akari bowed to the bespectacled Shinigami. "It's nice to meet you again. This is Akari-san."

"It's good to see you too, but what brings you here?" Shirogane wanted to know. "I heard you're looking for Kuchiki Taichō?"

"Ah, yes, I need him to fill in and seal an application form that, um…" Hisana hesitated. Did he know about her engagement? But then again, he didn't look all that shocked to see her in Seireitei.

Before she could find the words, though, Shirogane pulled open the other door that the bearded Shinigami wasn't holding open.

"Oh, no worries, Hisana-san!" he reassured her. "Please come on in!"

The bearded Shinigami was gawking indignantly now at the two women and Shirogane. Akari stuck out her tongue at him as she followed a trepidant Hisana through the entrance of the barracks.

"If Byakuya-sama is busy, maybe I should come another time…" Hisana said uneasily, still clutching her documents to her chest.

"Don't you worry, Hisana-san. Kuchiki Taichō is definitely never too busy when it comes to you," Shirogane told her with a sly grin. She flushed. "Follow me, both of you."

They obeyed, trailing after him through what Hisana presumed were the training grounds of the Sixth Division. There were various sweaty-faced Shinigami standing around the open space, holding out their swords and clashing the blades fiercely against that of their sparring partner. Hisana flinched, moving just a little bit closer to Akari and Shirogane, the latter whom cut through an open path in between the sparring going on at either side. The petite girl abhorred violence, having witnessed a great deal in Hanging Dog.

She'd seen violent thugs pummel the living daylights out of each other in a bid for food, water and other goods they were scavenging. Many of them had ended up with broken limbs, and some had actually died, their guts splattered in a crimson pool on the ground.

Hisana would never forget the sight.

 _I'll fuckin' kill ya._

She hugged herself in an attempt to ward off the memory, glad that Shirogane was leading them into an enclosed building now. The interior reminded her a little of the Administration Bureau, only the cream walls were lighter in shade, the signboards were marked differently, and everyone marching about inside were Shinigami. They all bowed upon spotting Shirogane, greeting him with fervor.

A couple seconds later, Shirogane had led them down a corridor to large mahogany doors at the end. He rapped boldly on the doors, and spoke.

"Kuchiki Taichō, you have a very special guest here to see you!"

Hisana was mortified. Did he have to put it like that?

Shirogane waited a bit, then pushed one of the big doors open. He held it open, waving Hisana and Akari in.

Hisana timidly entered the office, feeling butterflies erupting in her stomach. She was greeted by the sight of a spacious room occupied by filled bookshelves on either side of it, along with a linen sofa and a few armchairs beside the shelf on her right. In the center of the room sat her lover by a table, his slender hand holding a brush over an opened stab bound book.

His dark brows arched when he saw her.

"Byakuya-sama!" Akari started speaking the instance she stepped in after Hisana. She bowed deeply, then straightened up and continued, "Please pardon our intrusion, Byakuya-sama. We're here because something cropped up unexpectedly at the Personnel Record Administration Bureau. We were handed application forms to be completed and sealed by Hisana-sama and yourself for submission. I persuaded Hisana-sama to come here instead of having the forms done tonight because I hoped to save time. We hope we have not disturbed you too greatly, Byakuya-sama!"

She bowed again, and Hisana followed suit diffidently. Her heartbeat had gone erratic as it always did at his presence.

Byakuya glanced at Akari for a brief heartbeat, and then calmly back at Hisana, making her breath hitch. She probably looked like a nervous wreck, she thought.

She sure felt like one.

"Shirogane." Byakuya addressed his Fukutaichō with disinterest. "If that is all, you may leave."

"Ah, wait, Taichō…" Shirogane hurried across the room to the office table, then leaned over and murmured something in a low voice to his superior's ear. Hisana had no idea what was being said, and Byakuya's features revealed nothing.

Once done with his speech, Shirogane straightened up and bowed slightly to the Captain, then made his way back to the open door.

"I'll see you around, Hisana-san," he chirped, waving at her again before he finally left, closing the door behind him.

"Akari."

Hisana started at her fiancé's rich, deep voice, the sound of it like crushed velvet.

"Ah, yes!" Akari jumped into action at once. She turned to Hisana. "Hisana-sama, the documents, if you please…"

Hisana obliged at once, extracting the envelope and the application forms she'd been hugging to her chest. Akari took hold of both application forms, to Hisana's surprise, and scurried towards Byakuya's table to hand him the forms.

"Akari-san, you took both forms," Hisana said confusedly.

"It's all right, Hisana-sama," Akari assured her. "Byakuya-sama will take care of them. Please, sit!" She gestured at the sofa.

Hisana stood there, torn for a moment, but seeing as her fiancé was now looking through the application forms, decided it was better not to argue.

She went over to the sofa and sat down, her hands placed demurely together over the envelope on her lap. She didn't know what else to do with herself. Furtively, she stole a glimpse at her fiancé. He was now writing on one of the application forms, his brush sweeping in graceful yet decisive strokes across the paper. Akari stood by his desk, her head lowered deferentially.

Hisana prayed that she hadn't encroached on his work at the Sixth Division. The last thing Hisana wanted was for him to feel like she was a hindrance. Her belly knotted. She was becoming increasingly uncertain about her decision coming here. Truth be told, she felt very removed from her lover again; it was hard to believe that just yesterday, she'd been in his arms inside the same bath together.

 _If ya cheat on me—_

Hisana inhaled silently, shutting her eyes momentarily. When on Earth was that accursed memory going to leave her alone?

She was not cheating on anybody. She was unmarried. Her life now in Soul Society had nothing to do with the one she'd had before she died. Clearly she'd been married before at one point in the Living World, to whom she was sure was an abusive alcoholic, judging by the stench of alcohol in her dreams.

Hisana wondered if he had killed her. For the first time in her life, she found herself curious about her past life, and the cause of her death.

But how had her baby sister factored into the equation? Why had they both died together?

Had the man killed them both?

A sudden movement flickered in front of Hisana, and she jumped on the sofa, her heart in her mouth.

She immediately felt foolish when she saw it was just her lover now standing before her, the ends of his silvery windflower silk scarf drifting past her peripheral vision. He gazed down wordlessly upon her.

"Byakuya-sama," Hisana managed, about to rise to her feet. How long had she zoned out for? "I'm sorry—"

"Sit down," he told her simply.

He placed the application forms on a quilted maple table by the sofa, and she saw that the particulars were all filled up by his neat, sophisticated handwriting, save for the empty box at the bottom of one form atop the other.

It was the signature box.

"Do I sign that?" Hisana asked, sitting up straighter as Akari placed an inkstone beside the forms, and held out an ink brush for the former.

"Yes, Hisana-sama," Akari assented. "Byakuya-sama has already sealed his."

Hisana nodded. She was acutely aware of Byakuya seating himself beside her on the sofa, watching her.

Willing her hand to keep steady, she took the brush from Akari with a soft word of thanks, and then dipped the brush into the ebony inkstone. Since she didn't have a seal of her own, she would have to sign it.

She was very self-conscious of her clumsy handwriting compared to her fiancé's beautiful calligraphy. It wasn't like she had much time to practise her own calligraphy when she'd been in Hanging Dog. She couldn't remember the last time she had written anything on paper.

 _Shimizu Hisana._

Hisana stared at her signature, putting down her brush as she did so. She wondered how much longer she would be keeping her maiden name.

The girl turned still when she felt him gently brush a loose strand of hair from her cheek, his fingertips stroking her delicate, unusually waxen skin.

"You're pale," Byakuya observed quietly.

"I'm all right," Hisana said automatically, her heart pounding at his touch.

"Hisana-sama has looked quite pale the whole day," Akari put in.

Hisana frowned. "Akari-san—"

She was silenced, however, by his gloved hand over her small one.

"Akari will walk you back home," he said evenly. "I'll handle the submission from here."

" _No!_ " Hisana leapt to her feet from the sofa, unable to stop herself. She turned determinedly to face her lover, whose grey eyes had widened ever-so slightly at her uncharacteristic outburst.

"Byakuya-sama, I asked to handle this submission, and I want to complete it myself," she ploughed on, as firmly as she could. "It's… It's very important to me that I uphold my own request. I did so in the first place to lessen your burden, Byakuya-sama. Please allow me to finish my task."

Silence.

Hisana swallowed. He was regarding her impassively now, the faint surprise she'd seen in his eyes gone. It was, as usual, impossible to tell what he was thinking. Behind her, Akari was also mute, probably with her own shock.

He rose to his feet.

Hisana took a step back meekly. It didn't help that he practically towered over her elfin frame in height. He took a step towards where she had retreated, and she went stock-still, unsure of what to expect.

To her surprise, the Captain merely brushed past her, gathering and picking up the papers on the table.

Then he held them out towards her calmly.

Hisana's violet eyes shimmered with gratitude. She took both application forms from him and held them to her chest with her envelope, bowing deeply.

"Thank you, Byakuya-sama," she said softly.

He studied her beaming visage, his own demeanour placid and collected.

"You'll return home after that."

"Return…?" Hisana echoed dumbly. "Ah, no, Byakuya-sama, I intend to go to the Rukon—"

There was a flurry of motions as Akari scrambled towards Byakuya's side.

"Byakuya-sama, I'll make sure I walk Hisana-sama back home after we make the submission," she promised. "Thank you."

Hisana parted her lips to protest, but Akari shot her a meaningful look.

 _Please don't push it_ , the look said.

"We should make haste while we can, Hisana-sama," Akari went on. "It's getting a bit late, and what with the long waiting hours at the Administration Bureau, it might be near evening by the time we manage to submit."

Hisana paused. Contrary to Akari and Byakuya, she hadn't realised that.

Her lover's concerns were certainly valid when it came to her visit to the Rukon District in the evening. The streets were much more dangerous at night; back when she'd lived there, she'd always try to stay put inside her hut once the sun had set.

"Yes, let's leave now," Hisana agreed, her soprano voice thick with emotion. "Thank you, Akari-san, Byakuya-sama."

Akari beamed at her in response. Byakuya made no comment, but instead turned away and began walking towards the doors, his silvery scarf flickering behind him. Both girls immediately hurried after him, Akari dashing a little faster to reach the doors first.

She held one of the doors open, bowing as the Captain moved past her, Hisana after him. The petite woman thanked her as she passed her.

Hisana fidgeted from where she trailed after the Captain down the corridor. He was evidently walking them out, and she couldn't help but feel guilty. He was busy enough as it is, and now he also had to waste his time ushering them out when they had been the ones who'd unceremoniously dropped by.

She was about to tell him it was unnecessary, that she'd already somewhat memorized the way back out, when he suddenly stopped, causing her to nearly collide into his back.

"Do not walk behind me, Hisana."

Hisana blinked rapidly, taken off-guard by his words. Whatever she'd been expecting him to say, it wasn't this.

"S–sorry…?" she said tentatively.

Akari nudged her forward encouragingly, and a hesitant Hisana took a few steps ahead until she was standing directly beside her lover. He gazed down at her unfathomably, taking in her flustered profile.

Then he began walking again, and she hastily followed suit to keep pace beside him.

It didn't take long before they came across Shinigami from the Sixth Division again. Their reaction to the presence of their Captain was even more magnified than their reaction to the Vice-Captain, which made sense, she supposed. All of them went stiff as a board, bowing and chorusing their greetings emphatically, and Hisana could sense a nervous undercurrent running through them.

Other than the tension, she could also sense their rising curiosity seeing a tiny girl wearing a plain, shabby ginger robe standing directly next to him, a contrast against Akari following obsequiously behind. The subtle dynamics between herself and the Captain must appear terribly odd to them, but it also sent a message to the onlookers, she discovered.

A message of her place here, despite her drab attire.

Hisana glanced sideways at her fiancé. He appeared as unflurried and detached as ever, paying little attention to his subordinates when they greeted him. She continued walking alongside him, her hands clutching the documents to her chest tightly, until they left the building and into the open space training grounds she'd bypassed earlier.

"Kuchiki Taichō!"

It was Shirogane. He was running towards Byakuya, followed by several other Shinigami at his heels.

"Taichō, the team we dispatched to Junrinan have returned," he said, coming to a halt before his superior. Hisana darted her eyes curiously to the bespectacled male. Junrinan was the first district in the West Rukon District. "They're here to make their report."

One of the Shinigami flanked behind Shirogane stepped forward, gracing his Captain with a quick bow.

"Taichō, we've found and eliminated exactly seven Hollows," he revealed. "No casualties from any residents. I'll be writing the report as soon as we head into the barracks."

Byakuya did not reply. His slate grey eyes were narrowed as he looked at the other Shinigami behind Shirogane. Sensing his Captain's scrutiny, Shirogane looked back, and Hisana, too, followed the direction of his gaze.

One of the Shinigami in the dispatched team was twitching and spasming, his convulsions growing increasingly violent as the seconds went by. As a horrified Hisana watched, the back of his _shihakushō_ bulged, and his eyes rolled back. The bulge by his spine continued burgeoning until the black fabric tore apart.

What the…?

The spectating Shinigami emitted exclamations of shock, and Hisana recoiled, feeling an equally terrified Akari grip her sleeve. Never in a million years had she expected herself to witness a sight like this now. She half-contemplated the possibility that she was still dreaming.

Byakuya shifted fluidly so that he was standing in front of Hisana, but she could hear the ripping sounds of more fabric tearing, followed by an enormous shadow cast over their heads and then a guttural howl reverberating through the air that she would never forget.

It was the howl of a Hollow.

The monster was huge, towering over all of them as it freed itself from the broken husk of the Shinigami it had been inhabiting. The bulk of its almost humanoid body was a charcoal black, with elongated limbs that might have passed off as a gruesome parody of human arms and legs, assuming any living person would have such distended gnarled fingers that rivalled the size of their own head.

The most eerie part of the Hollow was, of course, the white mask that constituted its face. Hisana felt terror clamping over her airways like an icy fist at the macabre grin stretched across the ivory expanse of its mask. Its eyes were a bright yellow gleaming through twin black holes.

Hisana had only ever seen a Hollow once in her life prior to this, and that had been in Hanging Dog.

It had also been the night before she had first met Byakuya.

"Taichō!" Hisana could hear numerous Shinigami yelling, and the metallic sounds of swords being unsheathed. "I'll handle this!"

"No, I will!" More Shinigami were shouting fervently now, and Hisana felt slightly overwhelmed by the different voices clamoring all around her. "Taichō, please stand back! Let me!"

"No, please let me!"

Shirogane tutted. He moved closer so that he was standing beside Hisana and Akari.

"Kiss-ass," he muttered under his breath.

The Hollow howled again, and she trembled as the ghastly racket ran right through her being. It slammed a gargantuan fist to the ground, and both Hisana and Akari would have fallen from the powerful shock waves rippling beneath their feet had Shirogane not steadied the two of them.

"Die!" one Shinigami yelled, running towards the Hollow with his sword raised.

Byakuya turned his raven head slightly amidst the din, his scarf fluttering serenely.

And then he was gone.

It was the only way a stunned Hisana could describe it. One second he had been standing in front of her, and the next, he was gone.

Where—?

The Shinigami that had his sword raised froze. He was staring disbelievingly up at the Hollow.

Hisana's blood chilled.

There was a crack running right down the Hollow's white mask now. It tried to part its lipless mouth to howl again, but just as suddenly as the crack had appeared, both ivory sides of the mask framing the fissure fell asunder, revealing a murky blackness underneath akin to its body.

The once-defined outline of the beast began to liquify and blur, the sea of blackness gradually swallowing itself like a sable abyss and then fading into nothing.

Hisana stared. Her lover stood only a few inches away from where the Hollow had been, gazing dispassionately at the now empty spot, the hem of his Captain's haori billowing slightly from the breeze.

How the hell had he moved from where he'd been standing in front of her to that spot in such an infinitesimal span of time? She knew that most Shinigami were familiar with Flash Step, but this was incredible. Furthermore, his sword was still sheathed by his side—she hadn't even seen him pull it out to strike the Hollow, let alone put it back.

She hadn't seen anything, period.

Shirogane didn't look surprised at all. He was beckoning the remaining members of the dispatched team over. They all looked very cowed.

"We're going to need a much more detailed report than whatever you had planned, you hear me?" he said. "Kuchiki Taichō…" He turned as the Captain approached. "What are your orders now, sir?"

"I'll take care of this," Byakuya said levelly. "Shirogane, walk Hisana to the Personnel Record Administration Bureau for now."

"Byakuya-sama—" Hisana was about to protest, but Shirogane put his hand on her shoulder.

"All right then, I'll be Hisana-san's bodyguard!" he said cheerfully. "And yours too… er, Akari-san, am I right?"

Hisana wanted to point out that she didn't need a bodyguard. Ironically, after what had happened, she actually didn't feel as frightened anymore.

Her fiancé was strong. She'd expected him to be strong considering he was a Captain-level Shinigami, but never anywhere to this extent. His speed was unlike anything she'd ever seen. There was a tremendous disparity between his ability and that of other Shinigami, judging by what she had witnessed between him and his subordinates. If so…

The man in her nightmares didn't seem so formidable now.

He just seemed like an ordinary man compared to the one she loved.

But it wasn't so much Byakuya's skill as the way he had shielded her with his body earlier that warmed her heart. She had no doubt he wanted to and would protect her, as he'd implicitly promised when he'd gifted her the _kanzashi_. As long as she stayed by his side, she had little to fear, she realised. And he did want her by his side; he had literally demonstrated as such.

She wasn't alone anymore.

"Shall we go, Hisana-sama?" Akari asked, a little shakily from the aftermath of the attack.

"Yes." Hisana nodded with a smile, still high on her epiphany. "Just one more thing…"

Summoning her courage, she pivoted on her heel, and tiptoed to tenderly kiss her fiancé on the side of his jaw in front of everyone watching. She noticed with satisfaction that the bearded Shinigami was there as well.

"Shall we go?" Hisana asked, into the flabbergasted silence that ensued within the entire barracks. Cradling the documents protectively to her chest, she made her way towards the front doors, an astounded Akari stumbling after her.

Shirogane, recovering from his own surprise, let loose a low chuckle before he followed the two girls.

"That's an interesting woman you've got, Taichō," was all he said as he departed. "She's got more backbone than I thought."

Byakuya gazed inscrutably at his fiancée's retreating back for a pregnant moment. He spoke very quietly.

"I know."

* * *

 _:tbc:_


	13. Chapter 13: Sake

**Verse:** 'Half-Canon'.

* * *

"The official wedding ceremony is scheduled to take place a week after the _nyuseki_ has been completed," Akari said.

Hisana nodded as she processed the information, sipping her cup of matcha as she did so. She was currently having lunch, comprising of white miso soup, grilled yellowtail collar, sweet potato, simmered pumpkin, cooked turnip with red miso, and finally brown rice.

She was rather enjoying the savoury, rich tastes to her palate, as well as the contrast against the sweetness of the potato and pumpkin. By now, the chefs—or at least her fiancé, as per his orders—were aware of her sweet tooth, which was why her meals encompassed more sweetened side-dishes.

"Why is the wedding a week after?" she asked tentatively. She wasn't sure if the butterflies in her stomach signalled excitement or nervousness. Probably both. While she could have gone without the ceremony since completion of the _nyuseki_ already meant that she was officially married, she would be lying if she said it wasn't her dream to play a bride for one day.

It was probably a good thing she felt as such, since she'd learned that an official wedding ceremony was a must for members of one of the Four Noble Houses.

"That's the soonest the entire ceremony can be put in place after the _nyuseki_ ," Akari explained. "Since we don't know yet when the _nyuseki_ will be completed, we can only arrange for when the wedding ceremony will take place afterwards."

Hisana nodded again. She understood that Byakuya had already submitted the regimental soldier marriage registration to the Gotei Soldier Record Administration Bureau. There were still three more submissions he had to make, but the paperwork required for the submissions were tremendous, not to mention booking an appointment with the relevant offices took time. Accompanied by his duties from the Sixth Division, the entire process evidently made for quite a juggle. The worst part was that those submissions required his specific input since he fell under the criterion, whereas she did not.

Hisana wished she could help more. She hated seeing her fiancé overwork himself, though fortunately he didn't appear as tired as she'd feared. She'd never envisioned submitting a _nyuseki_ to be so difficult. The night he had gifted her the _kanzashi_ , which she was wearing now in her hair, she had thought it would be relatively straightforward. Had she known then what she knew now…

Hisana chewed on a mouthful of simmered pumpkin, letting the fluffy texture pervade her taste buds. No, she was sure she wouldn't have declined the proposal either way.

How could she ever turn down marrying the man she loved? It was like a wonderful, beautiful dream come true.

But was she being selfish for wanting to marry him even in spite of the complications involved?

Akari was still speaking, Hisana realised.

"I understand that the tailors are making the _shiromuku_ at the moment," she divulged, referring to the bridal kimono Hisana was to wear on her wedding day. "It's going to be absolutely beautiful, Hisana-sama."

"We're alone, Akari-san, so there's no need to address me as such," Hisana said automatically, but her mind was caught up by the _shiromuku._ She was undeniably excited to wear it. Every woman dreamed of dressing as a bride, she thought ruefully, and she was no exception, it seemed.

"Ah, yes…" Akari averted her eyes. In a transparent bid to change the subject, she said, "There will, of course, be the typical rituals during the wedding ceremony, such as the _san-san-kudo_ , and—"

"The what?" Hisana asked.

"The _san-san-kudo_ , Hisana-sama," Akari reiterated eagerly, reverting back to her original form of address, much to Hisana's exasperation. "There will be three cups of sake for yourself and Byakuya-sama. Each of you will take turns sipping thrice from each of the three cups."

"Oh, I see…" Hisana nibbled her lip concernedly.

"Is something wrong?" Akari questioned, seeing the furrow in the other woman's brows.

"Actually, to tell you the truth," Hisana said sheepishly, "I have never drunk sake before, Akari-san."

Akari's eyes widened. "I think I understand. Are you worried that you will not be able to drink during the ceremony, Hisana-sama?"

"What if I… choke, or something?" Hisana confessed. "I'll have to drink nine times, and that seems a little intimidating."

"Hmm, I see," Akari mused. Then, abruptly, she brightened. "What if you try some sake now, Hisana-sama?"

Hisana looked at her bemusedly. "Now?"

"Yes, to prepare for the ceremony," Akari reasoned. "This way, you'll get used to drinking the sake by then. I can go and bring some for you now, if you'd like."

Hisana deliberated for a few seconds, unsure if she should agree. "I don't know, Akari-san…"

"Please don't worry, Hisana-sama, it'll be fine," Akari assured her. "Please wait for a minute!"

Before Hisana could stop her, the handmaid had slid open the _shōji_ door, then scrambled out, shutting the door softly behind her. Hisana stared dumbly at the spot the handmaid had been in mere seconds ago, and then sighed, setting her chopsticks neatly on top of her rice bowl.

Akari was really an endearing girl, she concluded privately with a small smile. She was truly fortunate to have made such a friend. She didn't want to think of the other girl as her lady-in-waiting. Surely it would be fine to think Akari as her friend instead?

But would Akari still treat her so warmly if she was not betrothed to the Head of the Kuchiki House?

Exactly a minute had passed by the time the _shōji_ door pulled open again with a papery rustle, and Hisana was greeted by the sight of Akari accompanied by a young boy in his late teens, who had a head of curly brown curls and a boyish, freckled face. Like Akari, he wore the customary brown garments that most of the servants donned, and in his hands was a round bamboo tray with a ceramic sake flask and an _ochoko_ cup atop it.

"Hisana-sama, this is our page, Hakaru," Akari introduced. "His father is the head chef in the Kuchiki House. He was rather, er, insistent on meeting you. I apologise for his impudence, Hisana-sama."

"Oh, not at all—" Hisana had barely spoken when the boy cut her off.

"Hisana-sama, my name is Watanabe Hakaru!" he announced enthusiastically. "I've wanted to meet the new Lady of the House for a very long time! Honestly, the Manor has been a bit empty with us serving only Byakuya-sama— _oof!"_

Akari had nudged him fiercely.

"I'm sorry, Hisana-sama," she apologised. "He's a bit of a loudmouth. Please pardon his impropriety."

Hisana smiled. This was the first person she'd met in the household that was not unbearingly formal and stiff, and she found it very refreshing.

"Hello, Watanabe-san," she greeted. "It's nice to meet you. To be honest…" She lowered her voice. "What say you call me Hisana when we're alone?"

Hakaru's mouth was shaped in a gigantic "O". "Really?"

"Hakaru here is supposed to serve _Hisana-sama_ some sake, yes?" Akari said pointedly to the boy, giving him a barbed look.

He perked up again. "Oh, yes! I understand Hisana-sama has never had sake before, so I offered to bring some here! Please enjoy, Hisana-sama!"

He shuffled forward, placing the _ochoko_ cup on her lunch tray, beside her teacup. Putting down his bamboo tray on the tatami floor, he lifted his sake flask and poured into the cup.

Hisana could smell the mild fragrance of something fruity from the sake. She picked the cup up gingerly once he was done pouring, sniffing it discreetly. There was the scent of fruit again, though she wasn't certain of what fruit. Melon, perhaps? Other than that, she even fancied she smelled sweet caramel. Whatever it might taste like, she thought it smelled rather appealing.

"Take a sip, Hisana-sama!" Hakaru coaxed. "I promise it tastes amazing, even orgasmic, I would say—" He emitted a yelp of pain as Akari twisted his earlobe.

Hisana hesitated. As reluctant as she was to drink it, she also knew that she would have to do it during the ceremony. The last thing she wanted to do was embarrass her fiancé by choking on the sake in front of all the members of the Kuchiki House because she was so unaccustomed to it.

Marshalling her resolve, she tilted her head back and downed about half of the small cup.

Her eyes immediately stung. She started coughing at the potent liquid running down her throat, and was dimly aware of both her companions asking if she was all right. Determined to power through at the thought of the ceremony, she forced herself to finish the cup in its entirety.

Then she set the now empty cup down onto the tray.

"You did it, Hisana-sama, you finished one cup!" Hakaru cheered, amidst her fit of coughing.

"Are you all right?" Akari asked again worriedly, ignoring Hakaru.

"Yes…" Hisana was lying. Despite the fragrance of the sake, the pungent taste of alcohol was obscene to her, and she fought the urge to gag. "I'll… I'll have another cup."

"Are you sure?" Akari gaped. "You don't have to force yourself, Hisana-sama, we can take this slowly. This is only your first time, after all."

"No, I'm fine," Hisana reassured her, blinking rapidly to assuage the stinging in her eyes. "I want to get used to it."

"As the Lady wishes," Hakaru said, pouring again into the _ochoko_ cup.

The second cup wasn't as agonizing as the first, probably because the element of surprise was gone. She slowly drank the alcohol down, willing herself not to die as she swallowed. In spite of its fragrance, the actual taste was quite dry and crisp, with only hints of the fruity sweetness she'd hoped for.

It was also way too strong for her liking.

By the time she set the empty cup down again, Hisana was feeling slightly light-headed. Her surroundings were starting to look a little blurry, as if she was underwater.

"Hisana-sama, your face is flushed," Hakaru gaped, after several seconds of silence. "You look like a… a…" He thought hard for a simile. "A strawberry?"

Akari smacked him on the head. "Enough with you," she snapped, then turned back to face Hisana. "Are you all right, Hisana—?"

She stopped short when the petite girl suddenly giggled.

"A strawberry," Hisana gasped out, giggling again. "That's funny, Watanabe."

"Please, call me Hakaru," Hakaru said, then yelped again when Akari shoved at him impatiently, nearly toppling the sake flask he had placed on the bamboo tray. He hastily grabbed it before it fell.

"Hisana-sama, are you all right?" Akari pressed once more.

"I'm good," Hisana said dreamily. "I'm really good." Unexpectedly, she burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles again, so unlike her typical diffident, soft laugh.

While Hisana was not of noble birth, Akari had always been surprised by the class and refinement she carried herself with. The handmaid was sure that while the Head of the Kuchiki House had been partly attracted to that, it was also the contradictory touches of humility, vulnerability and earnestness Hisana had that most haughty noblewomen lacked which made her unique as a whole and appealed to him.

"Oh, no," Akari said, staring at the other woman. "Hakaru. I think Hisana-sama is a little drunk."

"What, from two cups?" Hakaru quizzed astonishedly. "That can't be it."

"She's tiny, Hakaru," Akari answered, a despairing note entering her voice. "The same amount of alcohol is obviously going to be different for her compared to most people! Why didn't I think of that? And not to mention she's never had alcohol before!"

"It's okay, it's okay," Hakaru soothed her. "We'll… We'll just put Hisana-sama to bed, and she'll back to normal by the time Byakuya-sama comes home tonight. She didn't drink that much."

Hearing the word _bed_ , Hisana jolted upright, the flush on her normally fair cheeks more prominent than ever.

"No," she announced firmly. "I am not going to bed. You can't make me!"

With said, the diminutive girl lurched to her feet with more agility than Akari had seen prior, and then tottered towards the _shōji_ doors, the tatami floor creaking under her uneven footsteps.

"Hisana-sama—" Akari had scrambled to her feet too, about to stop her, when Hisana stopped in her tracks, and turned around to pout at Akari.

It took Akari a moment to process that the demure, reserved and usually ladylike Hisana was pouting at her like an upset child. To Akari's shock, the latter even stomped her foot for good measure.

"I thought I told you a million times _not_ to call me that!" Hisana exclaimed aggressively. "If you call me by that honorific again, I'll pull all your eyelashes out, you hear me?"

Her declaration was greeted by flabbergasted silence.

Satisfied that she'd made her point, Hisana sniffed loudly before sauntering somewhat unsteadily towards the doors and opening them, the hem of her silk pink haori fluttering. Akari and Hakaru both stood there agape, watching in shock as their mistress vanished from the doors.

Hakaru finally spoke after a long while.

"But why eyelashes, though?" he said.

His voice seemed to snap Akari right out of her stupor.

"We don't have time for this!" she clamoured frantically, dashing towards the ajar doors and scanning the deserted corridor outside in hopes of seeing where their petite mistress had vanished to. "We need to find Hisana-sama!"

"But which direction could she have gone to?" Hakaru queried.

"I'll go left, you go right!" Akari ordered. "Hurry!"

Without waiting for his reply, she sprinted down the corridor towards her left, already thinking of possible places Hisana could have ventured off to. She'd vehemently objected to being put to bed, so it was quite unlikely for her to head back to her private quarters. The handmaid felt icy fingers grip her spine. Her mistress had mentioned all morning before lunch that she planned to head to the Rukon District later, so there was a slight likelihood she could have tried to leave the Manor in her drunken state.

Praying desperately that Hisana had stumbled across some other servant somewhere, Akari sped up her footsteps as she headed towards the _genkan_ of the estate. She couldn't stomach the thought of an inebriated Hisana falling into the lake or river on the grounds of the Kuchiki Manor. While the lake was reasonably shallow, the river was not, at least not for someone of her mistress' height.

She weaved her way hurriedly through the halls and corridors that she now knew like the back of her hand, opening and slamming a few _shōji_ doors in her wake. The _genkan_ of the Manor was actually not too far from the banquet hall, which bothered the handmaid even more since it heightened the possibility of Hisana coming this way, and she found herself running down the entryway of the estate in a couple of seconds.

Her heart thudded when she spotted two figures at the main doors _._

But it wasn't Hakaru or Hisana. Akari gasped audibly, her footsteps slowing in sheer horror at the sight.

It was Seike Nobutsune, the chief retainer, and the unmistakably towering figure of Kuchiki Byakuya.

Akari blanched. She couldn't believe it. The Head of the House didn't often return home early. So why now, of all days…?

"Itō Akari-san." Seike Nobutsune had spoken. "What is the matter?"

Fighting back a grimace, Akari reluctantly shuffled towards them, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. The only small comfort was that Hisana must not have passed this way, or the Kuchiki Head would have found her.

"Byakuya-sama, Seike-san," she greeted, bowing to both men.

"Where is Hisana-sama?" Seike questioned. "Are you not assigned to her?"

"Yes, about that…" Akari really wanted to curl up into a hole now. "I'm afraid something's happened. But we have it under—"

She faltered as she raised her head, meeting narrowed slate grey eyes.

"... control," she finished feebly.

"What exactly happened?" Seike probed, his silvery brows ratcheting up.

Akari took in a deep breath.

"You see, I was telling Hisana-sama about the upcoming wedding ceremony, and I told her about the _san-san-kudo_ , and she told me she's never had alcohol before, so I suggested that she try some now, and she sort of consented, and so we gave her some sake, and then she got kind of—well, maybe just the tiniest bit—drunk from two cups."

A silence met her babble of words, and she hung her head, too cowed to look up at her employer's face.

"Where is Hisana now?" Byakuya's voice was flat, almost toneless.

"That's the other thing," Akari confessed in a small voice. "Hisana-sama, she, um, ran off somewhere. I was searching for her when you found me, Byakuya-sama. Hakaru is searching for her as well."

"Itō-san!" Seike sounded appalled.

She dipped her head again contritely. "I am so sorry, Byakuya-sama, Seike-san."

Her employer did not answer. Instead, she felt him moving past her, the silvery ends of his windflower silk scarf and the hem of his Captain's haori fluttering across her vision. Seike was right at his heels, his back bent obsequiously.

Quickly, Akari followed. She trailed after Byakuya as he calmly walked through several halls and rooms in the Manor, sliding open numerous _shōji_ doors as he did so, while Akari shut them once they had bypassed them. It was tricky finding Hisana, since she possessed negligible spiritual energy.

But it was not impossible, if one's spiritual sense was keen enough to track the nearly impalpable spiritual pressure she exuded. Akari noticed that while Byakuya had ventured through several rooms, he had been following a certain route the whole time, as evident by how he ignored certain adjoining rooms right next door.

In fact, the direction in which he was heading to now was towards his living quarters.

But that couldn't be right. Hisana had been strongly against being put to bed, so there was no reason she would head back there. Akari was debating whether to mention this to the Kuchiki Head when he stopped in front of the door of his study.

Without preamble, he slid the screen smoothly open, and stepped into his own study.

The first thing Akari saw was Hakaru's back stooped over something. She scooted closer together with Seike, noting a shape huddled in front of Hakaru.

It was Hisana, curled up beside Byakuya's desk, and using his _zabuton_ as a pillow. She was completely dead to the world, lying there motionlessly, her pretty _kanzashi_ a bright pink in her disheveled hair. Several of his books has been removed from his shelves and strewn open around her on the floor.

If any of the servants had done this, they would have been instantly dismissed from employment.

Hakaru, having turned around and spotted the newcomers, had doubled over upon seeing Byakuya in particular. Ever since Hisana had moved into the household, their master had begun cloaking a great deal of his immense spiritual pressure in consideration for her frailty, which consequently made it easy for him to conceal his presence until his servants noticed him. A shocked Hakaru bowed at once now, managing a hushed, stammered greeting to his employer.

Byakuya did not pay him much attention. His focus was on his quiescent fiancée splayed on the floor, looking almost like a lovely fallen flower, with her pale pink silk haori spread out, the plum blossom that was her _kanzashi_ tucked in her disarrayed ebony hair, and one of her pale, delicate hands clutching an opened book in her sleep.

"I found Hisana-sama in the study looking through Byakuya-sama's books," Hakaru explained in a lowered voice. "She said she was, er, looking for the documents to complete the _nyuseki._ She kept saying she—she, well, um, hated having Byakuya-sama do so much work when she wasn't doing much." He stopped, then added unnecessarily, "She's quite plastered, if I might say so, Byakuya-sama."

Akari winced, resisting the urge to smack the tactless page boy in the head. If not for the fact that his father was the head chef and most renowned in the Kuchiki House for his exceptional culinary skills, she was sure the boy would have been booted out of the household long ago.

If their master was displeased, he didn't show it then. He spoke frankly to the three servants, his gaze still on Hisana.

"You are all dismissed."

Akari didn't know whether to feel relieved or worried. She had no clue if a punishment was coming her way because of the incident, and it appeared she would be finding out later instead of now, which was going to drive her insane with dread.

At least Hisana was fine—she'd merely passed out. For that, Akari was grateful, and it had nothing to do with the Head of the House.

The servants bowed in unison, and then, as noiselessly as they could, withdrew together from the study, shutting the _shōji_ door behind them.

* * *

The study was silent.

Byakuya knelt down, gazing down at the slumbering woman. He reached out a long-fingered hand and softly smoothed aside a loose strand of her perpetually disarrayed hair from her face, revealing more of the thick, dark lashes fanning her porcelain white skin. He studied her sleeping face for a moment, his own profile unrevealing.

Then, very gently, he made to extract the book she was clutching in her tiny fist.

That stirred her.

He paused, watching wordlessly as her thick lashes fluttered open, revealing glazed violet irises. She lay there, staring hazily at him, and for a beat, no one said a word.

Then Hisana sat up—so suddenly that it would have startled most—emotion illuminating her entire face, her cheeks flushed with color.

"This is my book!" she told him emphatically, snatching her hand back, fingers still gripping the paperback. "Don't try to steal it, you—you _thief_!"

His dark brows rose at once at her proclamation, but she wasn't done.

"I found it first, so it's mine," Hisana declared, with a slight slur in her voice. "Mine! If you want it, you have to ask nicely, not try to snatch it when I wasn't looking! If you really, really want it…" She trailed off, thinking hard, then straightened up importantly, waving the book so vigorously in her hand it fell to the floor beside him with a _thump_. "I'll give you the book if you give me a big, big smile to show how much you want it!"

"This?" he asked levelly, holding the book up in his gloved hand.

Hisana nodded imperiously, though the effect was ruined by how she was swaying slightly. "Yes! But you have to give me the biggest smile ever, or I won't give it to you!"

He tilted his raven head slightly, his dark brows climbing further at her words. She pouted upon seeing his otherwise unchanging demeanour.

"Stop looking so serious!" Hisana wailed, like a petulant child. "You always look so serious, you should smile more! Here, I'll teach you—" She reached out with both miniature hands and pinched the sides of his sculpted mouth. "Like this, Byakuya-sama…"

She spent the next few milliseconds trying to pry and lift the corners of his lips, a furrow settling in between her brows as she concentrated on her efforts. He was unmoving for a while, allowing her to do as she wished, but then he placed the paperback aside on the floor before raising both his gloved hands and closing them abruptly over her skinny wrists.

Hisana stopped, peering at his hands in a sort of innocent confusion. Soundlessly, he turned his raven head slightly towards her right hand where it had been resting on the corner of his lips, and fully kissed the heart of her palm.

"No kisses!" she scolded him at once, the flush on her cheeks deepening. "That won't coerce me into giving you the book, even if I like it!"

He was not listening. Either that, or he was ignoring her. He'd lifted her hand further and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the junction of her wrist right where her throbbing pulse was.

"Byakuya-sama, you have to stop!" Hisana cried, squirming. "You're going to give me that strange feeling down there again!"

Byakuya paused, and looked at her with those unreadable intent slate grey eyes.

"Down where, Hisana?" he murmured.

The alcohol had clearly stripped her of her inhibitions, for she parted her legs and, disentangling her left hand from his loosened grasp, poked the dipped silk of her _nagajuban_ pooling between her open thighs, not noticing the darkening in his eyes. "Here!"

She wasn't done yet, however.

"Sometimes when we kiss, I get the tingles down there," she went on, speaking with uncharacteristic openness. "It's all very strange. Do you get the tingles too, Byakuya-sama?"

There was a pause, and then—

"Yes," he responded plaintively.

"Really?" Hisana asked in fascination, a beam growing beneath pinkened cheeks. "Does it happen when we kiss? What gives you the tingles, Byakuya-sama?"

This time, he did not hesitate.

"You," he said simply.

Hisana frowned, her button nose wrinkling.

"That's not very specific," she said. "What about me? What is it we do that gives you tingles?"

In response, Byakuya inclined his head towards her, and her breath faltered as his minty lips claimed her surprised ones in an unadulterated, probing kiss.

Hisana sighed, unable to help herself. Her breath held hints of the fruity sweetness and crispness of sake, which she could feel him lapping at with his sleek, hot tongue across the seam of her lips. With her inhibitions decimated by the alcohol, she responded far more zealously than usual, her own little pink tongue extending brazenly to meet his.

It was bizarre how their kiss could addle her senses and make her head spin even more than the sake had. At the touch of her tongue, he swiftly enveloped hers with his own, roving her mouth with soft, caressing ministrations from his lips—cool, minty lips that contrasted starkly with the smothering heat of his tongue.

Just like him, she thought dazedly. By appearance-wise—and demeanour-wise—he was always so unapproachable, icy and regal. But underneath all of that there was passion, through so many aspects people didn't realise: his wholehearted devotion to his family, his pride as a soldier and for all of the other soldiers whose lives came under him, and even for her.

Cold as he was, he was still a man who, while she'd been riddled with fever, had brought into his home someone the furthest below his station in Soul Society, and taken care of her, dabbing her forehead with a damp cloth.

Hisana stared up at him, breathing heavily, as their lips eventually separated. Almost in a trance, she cupped the side of his beautiful face with a delicate hand.

"I love you, Byakuya-sama," she said softly.

And just like that, his grey eyes widened a visible fraction at her heartfelt words, uttered so tenderly and earnestly from her ravaged lips. She gazed unflinchingly at him.

He did not have to respond; she knew the reticent male knew that. For her confession had nothing to do with his feelings—they were hers, and that was all she wanted to convey.

He continued staring at her, his grey eyes slightly widened, the closest thing to surprise she'd ever seen on his aristocratic features.

Hisana could feel her drowsiness return in a vengeance, and her hand, cupping the side of his cheek, slackened and fell. He swiftly caught her as she slumped forward, his robed arm curving around her narrow waist and tucking her sleepy form into him so that her head lay on his shoulder.

Byakuya, his countenance resuming its typical apathy, observed the way she nuzzled willingly into him herself, her plum blossom _kanzashi_ slightly lopsided on her hair, her coloured cheeks almost matching the flower motif in shade. Her eyes had drawn closed, and she was breathing steadily into his _kosode_ , mouthing incoherent words.

Silently, his thin lips curved fully upwards.

And for the rest of the hour, they remained entwined together amongst the open books scattered haphazardly around them.

* * *

 _:tbc:_

* * *

 **A/N:** Merry Christmas. :) I wanted to upload some pointless fluff for today, so here it is, lol.


	14. Chapter 14: Stay

**A/N:** Thank you for reviewing. :) I hope y'all have a Happy New Year ahead.

 **Verse:** 'Half-Canon'.

* * *

In times when the branch family took the initiative to visit the Kuchiki Manor instead of calling a meeting in the assembly hall that was typically more traditional, the oldest Elder in the Council of Elders would act as their representative. From where he was sitting in _seiza_ opposite their Head now, dressed in the customary white robes the Council of Elders wore, the Elder bowed his grey head.

"On behalf of the branch family," the Elder rumbled, "We would like to offer Byakuya-sama our most heartfelt congratulations. This is a joyous occasion, indeed."

Byakuya, seated opposite him in the room within the Manor, said nothing, his countenance unchanging.

"We have been informed that Hisana-sama is with child," the Elder revealed, his head still bowed. By that, he referred to the physician that had attended to Hisana just the day before. It was additionally the physician's duty to inform the Elders of any substantial revelation related to the Kuchiki House. "Much as we might have not been… enthused regarding this match, we are glad to hear that it has not been entirely fruitless."

At Byakuya's silence, he continued.

"Nonetheless, I must remind Byakuya-sama to remember that the child will be of mixed blood. I'm sure it will be needless to say that you are aware of what that means."

Byakuya narrowed his slate grey eyes.

"Byakuya-sama, I want nothing but what is best for the Kuchiki House," the Elder stated smoothly, lifting his head. "We have understood and respected your decision, and I am here to congratulate you regarding Hisana-sama. But certain issues remain worrisome and must be addressed. If Byakuya-sama will reconsider taking a noblewoman as your concubine just to bear your child for the purity of our bloodline—"

"I decline." His voice was flat and emotionless.

The Elder tried to argue, but Byakuya continued speaking in the same distant tone. "If that is all, you may retire. Your congratulations have been noted."

To the Elder's frustration, the Head of the House had risen fluidly to his feet, his white haori billowing slightly.

"Byakuya-sama, if you will remember, we have asked you to take Hisana-sama as your concubine before the wedding, but we are now offering a significant compromise," the Elder pressed on. "You need not care about the concubine. We will find the best candidate and handle all arrangements ourselves. She is there solely to bear your—"

"And I have already given you my answer," he said levelly, sliding the _shōji_ door open, where Seike stood stationed outside.

"If I may know why, Byakuya-sama," the Elder said through gritted teeth, clambering to his feet as well.

Byakuya turned his raven head to cast an indifferent sidelong glance at the other man.

"I have no interest to share my bed, nor any aspect pertaining to my life, with anyone other than Hisana," he said calmly. "If you'll excuse me."

And with that, he was gone, the back of his white haori fluttering behind him.

The Elder stood in the room, seething as he watched Seike follow his master. Until today, he failed to comprehend the depth of the Head of the Family's infatuation with their Lady. As with the other Elders and many members of the branch family, they had predicted that this little whirlwind affair would sizzle out at some point, but it had been over eight months since the Head had made his announcement to wed his paramour, and it was apparent he had yet to regret his decision.

And now Kuchiki Hisana—how the Elder hated calling her that, but that was irrefutably her legal name now—was pregnant. She was currently seven weeks along, as per what the physician had revealed. She'd apparently suffered from nausea for quite a few days before the physician had finally been summoned.

The Elder was beside himself with rage. It was outrageous enough that a commoner from the Rukon District was now the Lady of the noble Kuchiki House, but this… this was a whole other line she had crossed. This plebeian woman was carrying Kuchiki Byakuya's child. She did not deserve to carry the Kuchiki bloodline in her womb. It was sacrilegious.

Of course, not all hope was lost. The physician had also mentioned to the Council that Hisana had a very frail constitution. Despite her healthy diet and bed rest, she was underweight at the moment, even though she had gained quite a few pounds since moving into the household. She suffered from hypotension, mild anemia and a form of immunodeficiency disease from poor nutrition and other trying environmental conditions during her time at the Rukon District. While some of the latter disease had been treated by her new diet, the physician had noted that there was some lasting damage in her immune system.

Carrying a child to full-term might not be so smooth a process for her.

Of course, if the physician had informed the Elder as such, then Byakuya would have been notified similarly. The Elder did not know how he planned to handle the news.

But for now, it didn't matter. The Elder planned to watch how it all went down.

Sometimes, his own intervention was not even required for the curtain to fall.

* * *

Hisana could still remember how naïve she'd been when he had first informed her that it had been six weeks since her last cycle.

She'd stared at her husband speechlessly, unable to articulate herself. Despite the hard truth looming in the back of her mind, it was simply too much for her to process, let alone accept.

They had had intercourse for over half a year now without any protection, and while she had been a little surprised on their first night at its absence, he had said nothing about using contraception and she'd decided to follow his lead. It was always difficult to think about anything else when caught in his amorous spell, especially not when he was making her come. She'd reasoned that it was hardly a big deal; they were married now, and obviously children followed at some point in the distant future. The Kuchiki House probably expected an heir. It wasn't like they were financially incapable of supporting a child—at least, her husband wasn't.

Secondly, her cycles had been erratic back then, so she'd been sure that conceiving would be difficult. She wasn't even sure if she had been fertile at the time, what with the malnutrition she'd suffered from her life at Hanging Dog. There had been a timeframe when her menstrual period had not come for four months back when she'd lived there.

Hence, she saw no need to worry about any repercussions of her sex life for now.

What Hisana had not factored in was that her lifestyle had changed. Her diet had transformed into an extremely healthy, well-rounded one. She was well-rested. She was comfortable, and her body was beginning to repair itself. Her cycles had grown more regular and stable.

So when the truth hit her now, she had reeled.

She'd abruptly laughed out loud, with a lightheartedness she did not feel.

"Byakuya-sama, it—it isn't what you think," Hisana had forced out. "My cycles have always been irregular. It doesn't mean anything at all. Please don't worry too much."

He had simply watched her, saying nothing to agree with nor refute her words. In retrospect, she realised he had recognised her shock and had been giving her time to accept the truth.

And for the next two days, she had been fine. She was determined to prove she was fine. She woke up on time in the mornings. She didn't oversleep again. She'd stopped feeling nauseous during mealtimes, though she noticed that his side-dishes were no longer accompanied by any spices whenever they ate together. Her breasts were still tender, but she chalked it up to mere hormones.

They'd made love in a different position now instead of how she'd usually straddle his lap, which helped avoid aggravating her soreness, and which subsequently made it easier for her to pretend that she wasn't sore. She continued drinking red tea without complaint, knowing that in time to come, she'd prove him wrong and they'd be back to taking matcha in an instant.

He was wrong. He had to be.

And so far everything was going well, until… it wasn't.

On the third morning, before the sun had risen—before her husband had even risen—she had been jolted awake by brutal nausea.

If she'd been nauseous before, this was a whole new level. All she knew was that she needed to get to the bathroom pronto before she barfed all over her futon and Byakuya's, which was joined beside hers.

With speed that Hisana was sure was the closest she'd ever get to Flash Step, she scrambled out from under her comforter and shot off towards the bathroom, yanking open the sliding screen door in a frenzy.

And then she was kneeling by the toilet bowl, emptying the contents of her dinner—and probably dessert, which had been a few varieties of _daifuku_ —last night into it. If she wasn't so busy hurling, she'd be cursing her own gluttony.

And then Hisana felt a familiar warm hand gently rubbing her back as she vomited, and another hand smoothing away her disheveled hair from her sweaty face. She knew that her husband was now kneeling beside her by the toilet bowl while she gagged.

This was not at all attractive.

Finally, once she had nothing left to give and her dry-heaving had ceased, she flushed the toilet with her hand tightly on the handle, then slumped back to the floor, and collapsed into his arms. For a long, drawn-out heartbeat, no one said anything, the silence broken only by her ragged breathing.

Then, she felt him carefully prop her against the wall, to which she was too tired to resist or question, though she minded the loss of his body heat as he moved away.

She heard the sound of the faucet running, and then he'd returned to her side, his plain white haori rustling beside her before she felt a damp warm cloth gently dab at her sweaty forehead.

Hisana shut her eyes, instantly transported back to that very day over eight months ago, when Byakuya had brought her here for the first time while she'd been sick with fever, and had used a towel to wipe her forehead.

Despite her misery right now, Hisana had to fight back a faint smile at the precious memory. She would never forget it for the rest of her life.

She didn't have time to indulge in the nostalgia, though. The realisation of what was happening now had sunk in, and she opened her watery violet eyes, willing herself not to think of what her vomiting meant.

"B–Byakuya-sama," Hisana managed hoarsely. "You should return to bed. I'm fine. You have to rise early for the Division—"

"Quiet."

Hisana turned mute at once, and stayed docile as he continued dabbing her forehead with the cloth, and then her mouth. He didn't add on further, didn't say anything along the lines of, "I told you so", and didn't push her to discuss what had just occurred. Somehow, that made her feel better and worse at the same time.

"I'm really better now," Hisana whispered. "It's all right, Byakuya-sama."

In reply, Byakuya ceased dabbing her mouth and ran the damp cloth under the faucet once once more, before placing it back on an empty soap dish by the basin. He then returned to gather her up in his arms. She would have protested had she not felt as if her legs had indeed gone to jelly.

He placed her back onto her futon, tucking the comforter back over her slight frame. She watched blearily as, after making sure she was comfortably settled in, he then proceeded to go about his morning routine, shedding his lengthy haori and blue _kinagashi_ into the laundry basket with swift efficiency. She'd barely had the time to enjoy the sight of his sleek bare muscles rippling at his graceful movements when he'd reached for the white _shitagi,_ the black _kosode_ and _hakama_ draped over the stand in their room.

As efficiently as he'd shed his clothes, he slid on the respective components comprising his _shihakushō_ , in such a collected, measured manner that it amazed her how he was never self-conscious in front of her—or anyone at all, really.

Determined to help him get ready rather than lie here and watch like a waste of space in bed, she wriggled out from under her comforter.

Byakuya, having just tied his _obi,_ stopped, those slate grey eyes sharpening in her direction.

"What are you doing, Hisana?" he inquired flatly.

She parted her lips to speak, but to her horror, the familiar wave of nausea flooded her senses once more. She didn't even have time to rush to the bathroom again before she ended up slumping and gagging uncontrollably on the floor.

To Hisana's relief—though it was a small relief at that—she had emptied everything in her tummy earlier, and she ended up dry-heaving on the tatami floor.

Byakuya was by her side in an instant, his arm around her. He held her as she dry-heaved a final time before her crouched limbs gave out at last. She would have fallen face-first to the tatami had he not caught her with his arm wrapped across her chest and both her shoulders.

Hisana panted heavily, feeling tears at the corners of her eyes. She swallowed the acidic bile that had risen from her throat.

Very gently and slowly, he rolled her over from where she'd been facing the floor, taking care not to jostle her, and held her up within his arms for a silent moment, her miniature, delicate frame lying fully into him. Strands of his silken ink-black hair tickled the top of her ashen cheekbones, and she could smell the mild but tremendously soothing scents of his essence: rain, old books, ink, and something else unique only to her lover.

There was no other scent she loved more in this world.

"I'm... I'm so afraid," Hisana finally confessed into the hush of the room.

He did not move, and did not speak, just continued holding her in his wonderfully warm arms, his slender hands enveloping both her smaller, clammy ones.

Somehow, his silence instead of his making any attempt to prompt her further gave her the courage to continue.

"When I first came to the Rukon District, I came with my baby sister," Hisana said softly. "She was so small, barely ten months old. She was literally an infant. And I abandoned her." She smiled bitterly. "She's definitely not a baby anymore, but that's all I remember her as, Byakuya-sama. As the baby I abandoned."

Hisana stopped, shutting her eyes and letting the rhythm of his tranquil breathing lull her. It was a good thing, she thought, that she couldn't see his face.

"And now I might be… no, I'm _going_ to have a child of my own," she admitted openly, her heartbeat escalating at her statement. "It feels so selfish, so… cruel. I've deserted my baby sister, but I'm about to have my own baby. It feels like such a betrayal to her. I don't know if I deserve to hold another baby before I find the one I lost."

There was a pause. Hisana's thick lashes lowered, a maelstrom of conflicting emotions warring in her throat.

"We."

She stiffened. "Wha… What?"

"We are going to have a child." His baritone voice was quiet. "Not 'I'."

For a second, Hisana couldn't speak. Drawn by some unknown instinct, she angled her head faintly downwards and stared dumbly at their entwined hands—his on top of hers—resting over the flat of her belly.

Her violet eyes filled with tears.

Of course it wasn't just her baby. That was what made it all so special. After months together, the baby was living proof that she loved him, and unbelievably, that he loved her in return. If their love could actually take form into something tangible, then it would be the life in her belly.

 _The life in her belly_.

Hisana couldn't believe it. She was now carrying a piece of Byakuya—of the man she loved—inside of her. All this while she'd felt possessive taking him into her, and now his seed had finally borne fruit. This was almost more intimate than when they made love, to know that his flesh and blood had taken root and was growing within her.

She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

"My sister…" Hisana exhaled. "I'm sorry I keep bringing her up. But she's a reminder of an awful mistake I made in the past. I can't stop thinking of where I was that day, leaving her there like that..."

She stopped.

"And now," he murmured, "you're here."

 _In your arms,_ was what she wanted to say. _The most wonderful place to be._

"I don't want to abandon another baby," Hisana whispered. "I don't want to make another mistake. I don't want to run again. I just... " She swallowed. "I just want to stay."

His calloused thumb softly caressed hers, making her shiver.

"Then stay," he said simply.

She knew that it was different this time. She wasn't raising a baby by herself. She wasn't alone, as she'd felt so acutely and bleakly while raising her sister, to the point that she'd shed hopeless tears night after night.

This was their baby to love and care for together.

"Okay," Hisana said softly, smiling down at their entwined hands on her belly. She spoke faintly but earnestly, a single tear running down her cheek.

She didn't want to deny herself the heady euphoria she felt anymore, even if she didn't deserve to feel this way.

"I'll stay."

* * *

 _:tbc:_


	15. Chapter 15: Anmitsu

**Verse: '** Half-Canon'.

* * *

Hisana lay drowsily on the futon in the middle of the night, her head on her husband's chest, her face tucked into the crook of his neck from beside him. His robed arm was wrapped around the back of her shoulders, and she felt safe and cocooned, his warm scent and spiritual pressure cloaking her petite form under the sheets. They were entwined in a long-accustomed position since the start of their cohabitation over half a year ago, one they always fell into whenever they retired for the night. Even though they had two futons, they often ended up migrating onto the same one together.

She'd fallen asleep for perhaps a few hours before awakening in the darkened room with a sudden vengeance—an unbridled craving for _anmitsu._

She was going insane, she decided. She'd never randomly craved for food in the middle of the night before. Back in the Rukon District, she was fortunate enough if she could even find plain bread, let alone a dessert as sophisticated and fancy as _anmitsu._ She'd only gotten to try it after she'd married Byakuya, when it had been served a few evenings as dessert after dinner. Since she had a particularly sweet tooth, she'd thoroughly enjoyed every one of the various desserts the chefs had offered each evening.

Hisana had felt guilty and more than a little self-conscious enjoying the food, of course. If not for her husband, she would still be going to sleep hungry almost every night at the Rukon District, and now she was luxuriating each day in the desserts that he himself didn't touch—he did not like sweets—and allowing herself to become spoiled as a rich man's wife instead of someone who had worked hard to earn these luxuries.

And now she'd gone from being grateful for what small scraps of food she could find to awakening in the middle of the night with a fierce craving for dessert when she wasn't even hungry. She'd grown extremely soft and pampered by the lifestyle of a pseudo-noblewoman, she realised shamefully.

Of course, Hisana was aware her pregnancy—she was about nine weeks along now, and had entered the final month of her first trimester—was responsible for her sudden food cravings, but there existed the occasional pregnant woman living in the Rukon District who had to endure its trying living conditions all the same, and whom suffered continuously from perpetual hunger. How could she allow herself to indulge in her cravings then when so many others were suffering far worse?

Outwardly, Hisana didn't feel drastically different, but she thought her lower abdomen felt noticeably firmer than before, only she wasn't sure if it was merely all in her head. There was no way to find out since her taciturn husband had not commented on it, and she was sure he would have definitely noticed the physical change, if any, in her body whenever they made love. The physician had been assigned by her husband to examine her routinely at the start of every subsequent week, and he'd offhandedly informed them that their child was now the size of a cherry.

Surely a _cherry_ couldn't make a difference to the size of her belly yet?

But their child was real. Every week it was getting bigger, further expounding the fact that a literal life was growing within her. Hisana didn't know whether to be overjoyed or terrified.

Perhaps both.

Hisana shut her eyes, trying to ignore her irrational cravings. This was ridiculous. No one ate in the middle of the night. What did she want to do, wake the chefs and have them make her _anmitsu_ when they should be resting? They were busy enough in the day whipping up all three lavish meals for her.

 _Don't be more spoiled than you already are,_ Hisana told herself firmly. She squeezed her eyes tighter, trying her hardest not to think about the delectable red bean paste, the agar jelly cubes, the cool slices of peach and mango, the black syrup and the little cherries in that bowl of _anmitsu_ after dinner _…_

Her violet eyes flew open again, and she half-feared she'd drooled all over her husband's robes.

"What's the matter?"

Hisana froze at the reverberations of the familiar deep voice running up his hard chest, strands of his long raven tresses tickling her cheeks. Had she been squirming so much that she'd awoken him? But then again, Byakuya was always so highly attuned to every fiber of her being that it was hardly surprising. After all, he'd suspected she was pregnant way before she had.

"N–nothing," she managed hastily. "I'm sorry I woke you up, Byakuya-sama…"

He brought her closer to him, and drew more of the thick comforter over her.

"Are you cold?" he murmured.

"I'm all right," Hisana said at once. She wasn't cold, not when his tantalising body warmth enveloped her so wonderfully like that. "It's really nothing, Byakuya-sama. I'm sorry I disturbed—"

She stopped short when he lifted her chin up so that she was gazing up at him. It was difficult to make out his features in the dark, but the glinting slate grey of his eyes was unmistakable.

Hisana flushed at how intently they pierced her own violet ones through the darkness. It always unnerved her how he seemed to strip her with his gaze alone, without having to utter a word.

She knew he was not fooled by her proclamations. He'd always been able to tell when she was unwell, ill at ease or troubled by something. It always irked her how he could read her so easily while she struggled to decipher his own cryptic mask at times.

"What is it you need, Hisana?" he said simply.

Hisana didn't know what to do. She was mortified. One half of her craved the dessert so badly she was tempted to ransack the kitchens and make it herself, but the other half of her was reeling with embarrassment at her behaviour.

"I, um," she stammered, averting her eyes away from him. "I have a craving… I'm sorry." She flushed harder, and began babbling away. "I'm being so demanding and childish, so please just ignore me, I'm fine going back to sleep, really—"

"What are you craving?" Byakuya inquired calmly, cutting right through her jumble of words.

Hisana flinched. Why couldn't it have been something simple, like tea or some cake? But no—her palate had grown far too accustomed to the finer things in life now. She was tempted to lie to ease her husband's burden, but the enticing bowl of dessert swimming in her mind was too much for her to resist.

"... _Anmitsu,_ " she mumbled, so softly it was possible he hadn't heard her.

But he must have, because her husband didn't hesitate. There was no incredulity or any form of reaction in his unchanging demeanour as he disentangled himself from her wordlessly, then brushed their shared comforter aside and rose from the futon, his tall slender figure a stark outline in the silvery moonlight arcing through the transom windows and _shōji_ screens.

"B–Byakuya-sama?" Hisana sat up on the futon dumbfoundedly as he padded towards the doors once he had shrugged on his white haori from the lacquered wooden stand positioned beside their joined mattresses.

"Wait here," was all he said quietly, before he slid open the doors and exited their room.

Hisana sat there, taken off-guard, her skinny hands clutching the edge of her comforter. Was he really going to indulge her unreasonable whims and arrange for _anmitsu_ to be prepared for her in the middle of the night? He had to head to the Sixth Division early in the morning too, yet she'd awoken him and disrupted his sleep in light of her ridiculous cravings. Guilt churned in her belly.

She wasn't aware of how long she sat there, torn between staying put and running out to find her husband and tell him to come back to bed. She couldn't believe she was troubling him—the Head of the Kuchiki House, and the Captain of the Sixth Division—over trivial concerns like dessert. He had far more pressing responsibilities to address than her frivolous demands.

"Hisana-sama."

Hisana jumped when she spotted the familiar hunched figure of Seike Nobutsune standing by the slightly opened _shōji_ doors of her room.

"Please come with me, Hisana-sama," the elderly manservant continued.

Hisana scrambled to her feet instantly, and hurried towards him in her _hadajuban._

"I'm so sorry I woke you up as well, Seike-san," she apologised fervently.

He shook his snow-white head. "Please don't apologise, Hisana-sama. It is nothing."

It was not nothing, but Hisana didn't see the point of arguing further. She followed him meekly out of her room and down the long corridors of the estate, lit up by tangerine Japanese floor lamps spread out in intervals along the tatami mat, her tummy rolling in a combination of remorse, curiosity, and anticipation. Having lived here for more than eight months now, she recognised where the familiar route led to: the banquet hall.

Before long, Seike had parted open the _shōji_ screen to the hall, and she stepped in after him, fidgeting as she did so.

The _chabudai_ —a rounded low tea table—was situated in the center of the room, and a plain _zabuton_ was set one side to it _._ A _zaisu_ —the cushion with an additional backrest—was placed perpendicular to the plain _zabuton_ before the table, and she knew instinctively that the former was for her, since she'd rarely seen her husband sit on one.

Besides that, the other reason supporting her assumption was apparent: directly before the _zaisu,_ placed near the edge of the _chabudai,_ sat a transparent glass bowl, and the numerous vibrant colours of fruit, red bean paste, and the translucent pale shade of agar jelly inside swiftly caught her eye.

Despite herself, her mouth immediately watered.

"Hisana-sama," a short portly man, dressed in a _shihakushō_ with a white apron tied over it, greeted, bowing deeply before her. He stood opposite the table on the other end of the room, his chubby hands clasped together. She recognised him promptly as the head chef in the Kuchiki household. "I hope that you enjoy the _anmitsu._ "

"I—thank you," she forced out, embarrassed. "I'm so sorry for disturbing all of you."

It was then when Hisana felt movement behind her that she was sure didn't come from Seike, and a moment later she was proven right when she felt the intimate warmth of her much taller lover standing closely from behind. She had just twisted her head around when the oversized fabric of his lengthy white haori was lowered and placed over her thin shoulders.

"Byakuya-sama," Hisana whispered. She hadn't even registered the slight chill she'd been feeling whilst wearing only her _hadajuban_ in the night. Years of staying in the Rukon District had left her unused to ever having her mild discomforts alleviated, to the extent that she could sometimes become oblivious to her own suffering. "You'll be cold too…"

If he was indeed cold, he didn't show it. Instead, his slender, long-fingered hand gently pressed to her back, in the direction where the _chabudai_ was. Even without speaking, she recognised his silent decree for what it was.

Hisana obeyed, going over to the _zaisu_ with slight clumsiness, especially since the ends of the haori, which was much too long on her diminutive stature, draped the floor behind her feet. She sat down, her waifish knees tucked demurely beneath her, and peered ravenously down at the bowl of _anmitsu._ It took everything she had in her not to dig in instantaneously.

"Thank you, Byakuya-sama," Hisana said haltingly, looking shyly back up at her husband as he seated himself gracefully onto the _zabuton_ beside her. "I'm sorry for keeping you up when you should be resting for tomorrow…"

He gazed back at her, his disposition as unruffled and tranquil as ever. She wondered if she was imagining that his eyes seemed almost imperceptibly softer than usual.

"Eat, Hisana."

She nodded eagerly; needless to say, she was more than willing to oblige. She picked up the wooden spoon resting on the saucer beneath the bowl and dug into the neatly sliced fruit—mango, banana, and strawberry. With rivulets of nectarous black syrup coating the chunks of fresh fruit, she brought the spoonful of saccharine-sweet delight into her mouth, and had to fight back a moan at the explosion it sparked in her taste buds.

This. _This._ This was what she'd been craving all along, and she'd finally gotten it. Unable to stop herself anymore, she dug her spoon deeper into the bowl, this time scooping up several cubes of agar jelly and a dollop of rich red bean paste, and brought the spoon back to her greedy lips.

It tasted divine, the refreshing cool sweetness of agar jelly balancing out the concentrated, potent red bean paste. Even the texture balanced each other out: light and smooth versus thick and grainy.

"Do you like it, Hisana-sama?" the head chef asked hesitantly.

Hisana jerked up, swallowing the heavenly confection as quickly as she could to answer him.

"Oh, _yes_ ," she said gratefully. "It's amazing. Thank you so much for making this."

The chef bent his head obsequiously. "It's nothing, Hisana-sama."

Catching Byakuya's eye, the chef bowed again a final time and withdrew from the banquet hall, opening and shutting the _shōji_ door located on the other end of the room behind him.

"Byakuya-sama, do you want some…?" Hisana began softly. She was feeling very self-conscious stuffing her face while he sat there, watching her quietly. But then again, he didn't like sweets, so she wasn't surprised when his long sooty lashes fluttered dismissively closed in response.

"No."

It warmed her heart, seeing that he'd arisen from bed solely for her sake, considering he didn't even like _anmitsu._ She loved him so much in that moment that she half-thought her heart would burst from the ferocity of her emotions.

Hisana refused to keep him awake any longer because of her. He would have to rise at half past five in the morning, and she was guessing it was probably three now. She couldn't deprive him of what little sleep he already had.

Rapidly, she shoved spoonfuls of the dessert past her lips and chewed on the sugary paradise hurriedly, wanting to finish it as soon as possible. She'd barely swallowed one mouthful before she was vigorously feeding herself another.

Her heartbeat skyrocketed when Byakuya's long fingers suddenly closed over her tiny wrist then, halting her motions. She peered diffidently up at him, still chewing frantically on what was left in her mouth.

"Slow down." His baritone voice was level, almost gentle, but there was no mistaking the tacit command behind it.

Hisana swallowed again, making sure her mouth was clear before she spoke.

"I'm so sorry," she stuttered, flushing. "I just… I really don't want to keep Byakuya-sama up."

He let go of her wrist, and she stared at him helplessly, unsure of what to do. What she was not expecting, however, was for Byakuya to reach for the side of her mouth. His calloused thumb brushed off a stray smidgen of red bean paste that she'd missed, much to her mortification, and her cheeks flamed with heat when he brought it to his lips and licked it casually off.

A fraction of a second passed.

"Slow down," he said again, his unapologetic grey eyes meeting her violet orbs. "Dessert is to be savoured, not rushed, Hisana."

Hisana's blush deepened, but she slowed down, bringing the spoon gingerly to her lips and finally allowing herself to thoroughly savour the tastes of icy sweet strawberry and jelly. The head chef returned then with a tray containing two ceramic cups of steaming hot red tea, and he placed each cup before Byakuya and Hisana respectively.

And as Hisana sat there that night, reveling in her bowl of _anmitsu_ and sipping hot red tea with her husband in companionable—even intimate—silence, she smiled, knowing this was one of the little happy moments in her life that she wouldn't ever trade for anything else.

It was a precious memory given to her by the man she loved, another cherished fragment to add to the many mental snapshots she had accumulated and hoarded between them.

And for the rest of her life, she would keep those snapshots dearly inside of her heart.

* * *

Kuchiki Rukia was unable to sleep, even though it was hours past midnight.

Insomnia wasn't all that uncommon to her. Being a soldier did things to you; it didn't just scar your body, it scarred your mind, too. Her body was tired enough from a day of activity and work at the Thirteenth Division, but her mind was not. She lay in her futon, thinking of Ukitake Taichō's absence in the barracks and struggling to suppress the hollow sting of sadness his death elicited in her chest. The Quincy Blood War, while having ended months ago, continued sinking the remnants of its claws into her life.

She sat up on her futon, deciding that there was no point trying to go back to sleep when it was determined to evade her. Perhaps a walk around the estate would help.

She left her room in her _hadajuban_ , sliding the door shut behind her, then walked down the _engawa_ of the Kuchiki Manor, silver moonlight swathing her miniature figure and casting milky highlights in her short ebony hair. The open night air was cool, not cold, and she breathed it in, letting its crispness fill her lungs and reinvigorate her. The rounded lake in the vast grounds of the estate was bubbling softly, probably from the active koi frolicking in its clear stream.

She was not the only one awake in the dead of the night, it seemed.

Rukia squinted. It wasn't just the koi. From what she could see, the banquet hall was lit, a golden light gently washing through the _shōji_ screens. Like a moth to the light, she found herself heading in its direction, a part of her curious to see what the light must mean.

A minute later, she stood before the illuminated door leading to the hall, and, after some hesitation, she slid the paper screen open.

Rukia stopped, her breath hitching.

Her older brother, dressed in a plain white haori over his blue _kinagashi_ , sat noiselessly by the _chabudai,_ a ceramic cup of steaming tea placed before him. It took Rukia a moment to realise the beverage was not matcha, but red tea.

How bizarre. She couldn't remember the last time red tea had been served in the estate. Since her adoption into the Kuchiki House, matcha had been a constant staple accompanying the meals that she'd had. She'd never seen her brother drink red tea himself. Most people enjoyed tea for its caffeine, so red tea, being bereft of caffeine, served as a moot point. It was not to mention that red tea was not even of Japanese origin, which explained why it was rarely served in the Kuchiki estate.

"Nii-sama…" Rukia breathed, standing awkwardly at the door. "I'm sorry. Did I disturb you?"

He regarded her silently, his beautiful slate grey eyes unrevealing. His serene demeanour had not changed the slightest at her intrusion, but then of course, she knew it rarely did at most situations.

"Rukia-sama," a hoarse voice said behind her, and she turned around, startled, only to see the hunched, white-robed figure of Seike Nobutsune standing before her.

He bowed respectfully at her. "Would you like a cup of tea as well?"

"I…" Rukia hesitated. "I don't want to disturb Nii-sama."

At that, Seike smiled. "Please take a seat, Rukia-sama."

Rukia hesitated again, but Byakuya's silence was evidently assent on his part, and she shuffled forward at last.

"May I join you, Nii-sama?" Rukia asked softly.

He continued watching her without a word, then inclined his raven head gently in response.

She barely held back a joyous smile as she walked over demurely and lowered herself onto an unoccupied _zabuton_ perpendicular to her older brother's by the table.

Seike came forward shortly after with a tray containing another ceramic cup and a red clay kettle. He placed the ceramic cup before Rukia, and poured the piping hot tea into it.

She looked down. It was red tea.

Cautiously, Rukia picked up the cup, her slim fingers curling around the heated ceramic surface. She took a delicate sip.

It was amazingly glossy and gentle on her tongue, with hints of an authentic sweetness and the slight taste of woodiness and nuts. It was interesting how tea could depict an individual's personality by its taste alone, Rukia thought. Soft, gentle and sweet.

They were also very unlike her brother's preferences, at least in terms of palate. Rukia was aware her brother did not enjoy sweets. Why then, was he drinking red tea?

 _Soft, gentle and sweet._ Those traits reminded her of…

Rukia took another sip of red tea. She did not ask.

She did not have to.

And for the rest of the night, the pair—adoptive brother and sister—sat together, sipping red tea in companionable silence, neither saying a word to the other.

And that was enough.

* * *

 _:tbc:_


	16. Chapter 16: The Wedding — Part I

**Verse:** 'Half-Canon'.

* * *

Inside the palanquinn, a seated Hisana stared down at her hands, drawn over a brocade purse attached to her white _obi_ , along with a _sensu_ : a golden folding fan. A small _kaiken_ —a miniature dagger in a decorative sheath adorned by floral embellishments—was tucked into the front of her _shiromuku,_ close to where her bosom was.

Today was her wedding day.

She'd awoken to chaos in the morning, her husband—wedding ceremony or not, he was her official husband now that the paperwork for the _nyuseki_ was complete at last—away in some other part of the estate. The handmaidens of the Kuchiki Manor had all swarmed around her, doing her hair, makeup, and getting her into her bridal kimono. They'd worked on painting her face first: applying the slightest bit of face powder to her elfin features just to smoothen her already porcelain skin tone, filling in her brows to make them more defined, and lining her large doe eyes with dark ink to accentuate them further. Mascara was also applied to her lashes, and she'd stared disbelievingly at herself in the _kyodai_ mirror, her heartbeat quickening at the sight of the extended lashes, which made her pretty violet eyes larger and more striking than ever.

How long had she dreamed of putting on makeup, of dolling herself up? For years she'd trudged through the streets of the Rukon District, desperate to survive, her vanity the least of her concerns… And yet, it had remained in her mind all the same.

The desire to be a woman, and not a survivor.

And today, it was finally coming true. Being dolled up aside, every woman dreamed of her big day, and that, of course, entailed playing the bride of her very own wedding.

The fact that she was marrying the man of her dreams only made it all the more surreal.

Hisana stayed still as Akari, who was kneeling before her, had applied scarlet rouge on her lips.

"There," Akari had said, straightening up once she was done with her task. She peered at Hisana with undisguised awe and admiration. "My goodness… You look absolutely beautiful, Hisana-sama."

Hisana had directed her head back to the mirror.

She had to admit, her breath caught. The reflection that looked back at her seemed to belong to an expressive china doll, with large violet doe eyes framed by long, thick black lashes, accompanied by pink cheeks on a delicate, heart-shaped face and small dark red lips.

"I applied some rouge on your cheeks too, just the slightest bit," another handmaiden added proudly. "Akari is right: you look beyond beautiful, Hisana-sama."

"Thank you," Hisana said diffidently, still captivated by her own astonishing reflection. "You're all miracle workers."

"No, we're not," Akari refuted. "You're already very pretty on your own, Hisana-sama. It didn't take much work at all."

Hisana had smiled ruefully at that. She knew she was no great beauty, despite what her handmaidens said. Throughout the two months she'd spent in Seireitei, she'd ventured its streets frequently on her way to the gate leading to the Rukon District and, in the process, had passed by many female Shinigami. They were all attractive by varying degrees, but there was one woman in particular that Hisana had walked past, and whom had immediately stopped the latter dead in her tracks.

She was taller than Hisana—was tall and willowy even for a woman. She had shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair that fell in glorious waves from the top of her head, the sides of it framing a seductive face with brilliant blue eyes and full lips, under which a little beauty mark resided on her glowing peach-golden skin. A tiny pink scarf was wrapped around her neck like a choker, the fluttering ends of the silk knot brushing twin mounds of large, generous breasts barely held together by the sides of her black _shihakushō._ She had a stunning hourglass figure that drew not just Hisana's but many others' attention on the streets.

Hisana knew then that the Shinigami was undeniably the loveliest woman she had ever seen. She had always admired Shinigami for their spiritual powers and combat ability, both of which she wished she possessed at times, and to see a Shinigami that was also the most gorgeous creature she'd ever witnessed was truly the icing on the cake.

She didn't think she had an inferiority complex, but it was difficult not to develop one in her situation. At least back when she lived in Hanging Dog, she belonged, in a twisted sort of way. Everyone was of the same class. No one was particularly superior to another, not unless they had spiritual powers, but that didn't matter, since that meant they wouldn't stay in the district for long. But being flung straight from the bottom of the hierarchy to the top made for quite a juxtaposition, one Hisana was still struggling to adjust to even after two months.

It made her wonder how her husband had bypassed the beautiful female Shinigami from Seireitei in favor of a street urchin from the Rukon District. Surely he'd seen the strawberry blonde before? Yet her husband—Head of the one of the Four Noble Houses, and one of the most regal and beautiful men to exist in Seireitei—who happened to be greatly coveted by noblewomen and even the female Shinigami, had chosen neither. Worst of all, she was painfully aware that most of the intrigued Shinigami curbed their interest in the Sixth Division Captain, since they stood little chance against the female aristocrats in Seireitei.

And yet Kuchiki Byakuya's ultimate choice had been someone far, far lower than that.

Suffice to say, it hadn't been Kasumiōji Itsumi from the Kasumiōji Clan.

Hisana squeezed her eyes shut. She did not want to think of that noblewoman. She'd met Itsumi before, and Itsumi had very clearly been in love with Byakuya. After all, Itsumi had grown up with him, and one could even say she'd been groomed to be his wife.

Hisana refused to think of the other woman now. She refused to let anything dampen her wedding day, and that included her own insecurities.

Today, she was marrying the man she loved, and nothing was going to stop her. She was going to make sure of that.

Her handmaidens had helped her into her _shiromuku_ next. It was an intricate piece of work that had been painstakingly crafted and sewn by the tailors of the Kuchiki House over the past two months since her husband had proposed that fateful night. The ladies-in-waiting had helped her put on the white undergarments, coupled by an equally blinding white furisode with a lingering hem (the _kakeshita_ ), then a white formal _maru obi_ bound by a milky _obi-age_ and _obijime_ , followed lastly by an over-kimono that was donned atop the rest of the ensemble: the snow-white _uchikake_ , the pale silk of which was thoroughly adorned by golden-and-silver embroidery of cranes in flight. With all those layers of fabric on, she could barely bend down to make out her feet, so it was with the aid of her handmaidens that her diminutive feet were slid into _tabi_ socks and _zori_ sandals.

Next came her hair. Hisana had gently pinned her plum blossom _kanzashi_ into her lustrous dark hair herself, not wanting any help in that regard. The _kanzashi_ was one of the most—if not the most—treasured items she owned, and prior to this day, she had pinned it up herself almost every morning for the last two months, to the point that doing so felt like second nature to her. She gazed at herself in the mirror now once the hairpin was put into place again by the side of her hair, the pink of the flower the only splash of dynamic colour in contrast with her white garments.

It was finally happening. For all of the decades of suffering she'd endured in the Rukon District, they were all made worth it by what was the happiest day of her life today. She would willingly trade another decade of pain if it meant being able to stand here at the very end, wearing the _kanzashi_ as she married the man she loved.

Hisana continued staring into the mirror as the handmaidens lowered the ivory-white _wataboshi_ over her head. It was a beautiful white hood that framed her delicate, doll-like face perfectly, the left side of the hood embroidered with silver-and-gold crane motifs matching those on her expensive kimono, their exquisite wings spread out in flight. The cranes represented longevity and prosperity.

 _I'm getting married_ , she thought. _How surreal it all is._

A pang of melancholy struck her. If her younger sister had remained with her, she would have been here to witness the wedding. She didn't know what place her sister would have in the Kuchiki household, but at the very least, the two of them would have been together. Instead, the wedding felt as if she was taking another step further away from her sister.

For starters, since the _nyuseki_ had been complete a week ago, Hisana didn't share the same last name as her sister anymore.

A week later, and she was still unable to grasp the reality that she was no longer Shimizu Hisana.

Shortly after she'd been dressed up, she had been escorted from the Manor and through the grounds into an awaiting palanquin outdoors, her handmaidens and a few male retainers flanking her diminutive snowy-clad figure as she treaded carefully down the paved stone path within the vast courtyard. From what she'd been informed beforehand, all significant events in the Kuchiki House had taken place before the ceremonial shrine, which was situated in the forefront of a mausoleum devoted to the legacy of their ancestors.

As Hisana sat in the palanquin now, she waited, her heart in her mouth, aware that she'd finally been lowered back to the ground, presumably by the gate of the shrine. She could hear the sounds of a bell ringing resonantly in the distance.

And then, in the following silence that threatened to swallow her whole—

She recognised the imperious voice of the shrine maiden, whom she'd been introduced to the day after the _nyuseki_ had been complete. The shrine maiden's words were loud and clear in that moment.

" _Head of the family; the bridegroom, please proceed!_ "

It had begun.

Hisana closed her eyes, her heart pounding so hard she could hear blood rushing through her ears, making her slightly dizzy. Her tiny hands clasped the amber folding fan tightly. It was happening all so quickly that she thought she might faint.

But she couldn't. She would sooner die than allow herself to faint on a day that she had so highly anticipated for two long months. It was almost inconceivable in retrospect to compare herself now to who she'd been over two months ago, before she'd been proposed to. As a former resident in Hanging Dog, the possibility of falling in love, let alone getting married, had almost never crossed her mind then.

And yet here she sat.

" _The bride of the family, please proceed!_ "

Hisana straightened when the bamboo blinds of her palanquinn were raised, letting in radiant bursts of sunlight and revealing an elderly man, who wore a ceremonial white robe over his _shihakushō_ , standing before her _._ She suspected he was one of the Kuchiki Elders judging by his attire and the subtly disapproving pursing of his lips as he looked blandly at her.

In his hand was a red umbrella, which he held over their heads as he reached out his other wrinkled hand to help her disembark from the palanquinn. Since she did not have a male relative to give her away, one of the Elders would play the role. Even though he didn't express it outwardly, she had a hunch that he deeply resented his assigned task.

Giving away a commoner from the Rukon District to the Head of the Kuchiki House must rankle him so.

Hisana peered apprehensively ahead through the hood of her _wataboshi_. The melodious harmonies of _gagaku_ were playing together in the background, the musical performances by wind, string and percussion instruments in the band electrifying but not overbearing. Even amidst the throng of onlookers—other members of the Kuchiki House, as well as lesser nobles who had arrived to pay their respects—framing either side of her path, her heavily-lashed doe eyes instantly zeroed in on the tall, lean man standing at the end of said path, where the shrine was.

Byakuya gazed back at her serenely from where he stood, dressed in a formal _montsuki_ consisting of a dark night blue haori and a grey _hakama_. The Kuchiki crest was stenciled on either side of his chest. From an outsider's perspective, the elegant male appeared almost indifferent, his long raven hair glossy under the sun's rays, but Hisana knew better than to be fooled by that.

She walked demurely forward, guided by the Elder's presence beside her under the opened red parasol, her pulse drumming madly in her veins. An unexpected flicker of movement caught her peripheral vision, and she tore her eyes off her lover for a fleeting second to peer to her left.

A familiar old woman, dressed in a plain but clean kimono, stood amongst the guests. She smiled proudly at Hisana, her weathered face reminding the latter unfailingly of a kindly, crinkly prune.

Hisana nearly stumbled then.

 _Obā-chan._

How—? The old lady lived in the seventy-eighth district of Hanging Dog from the Rukon District. How had she made it all the way here, in Seireitei, at the ceremonial shrine of the Kuchiki Manor?

She stared in a flabbergasted stupor at Obā-chan, who was still smiling at her, and slowly, a faint but delighted smile grew on her own red lips at the heart-warming sight of the old lady whom she cared for so dearly.

There was only one explanation for her presence here, Hisana thought, and she darted her eyes back to the calm visage of her awaiting groom. His demeanour had not changed in the slightest, but she knew he had to have seen the whirlwind of emotions glimmering in her violet orbs.

 _I love you._

Those words resonated passionately in her head, and she stared at him, hoping he could read them through her ardent expression alone.

Because she did—for the rest of her life, and for all the other lives she would have after this, she would continue to love him unendingly with every beat of her heart. She couldn't imagine not doing so. He was her soulmate, her other half, the one she didn't deserve but whom had been carved deeply into her soul anyway.

How things had changed from the first time they'd met, when Hisana had lain on the forest floor, staring with wonderment at the mysterious windflower silk scarf that had fluttered from his back.

A minute later, and she had now reached her groom's side. The Elder bowed, then held the crimson parasol out respectfully to the Head of the family.

Byakuya accepted the umbrella wordlessly, and lifted it over his and Hisana's heads. She smiled up at him shyly from under her pure white _wataboshi_ , and followed his lead towards the shrine. The priest, dressed in a white _shōzoku_ with his greying hair held up in a _kanmuri_ , stood in front of the altar, facing them. He began reading from a document in his hands out loud: the _norito._

Hisana listened quietly, noticing the three ceremonial sake cups assembled on top of the other before her. They were a lacquered mahogany-red, gleaming under the light, with golden cranes painted on its polished surface, and a matching sake pot made of the same material and design was positioned beside them. The items were all placed atop a rounded pedestal of similar colour, all of which constituted the set for the _san-san-kudo._

After her mortifying mishap drinking the sake Akari had offered her, she'd been informed by both her groom and the servants that she need not actually drink the sake during the wedding ceremony, but merely touch her lips to the cup to play the part. She'd been more than relieved to hear that.

The priest lowered the document, having finished with his recitement of the _norito._ Hisana stiffened; now was the time for the _san-san-kudo_ to commence.

The shrine maiden finally stepped forward and picked up one of the three cups stacked atop each other, and held it out towards Byakuya. Meanwhile, the priest, passing the document to a retainer, had then taken over the umbrella from the nobleman, his greying head bowed.

Byakuya accepted the sake cup, and held it silently as the shrine maiden proceeded to pour the sake from the sake pot into his cup. Once she was done, he lifted the cup and sipped three times unhurriedly, his long sooty lashes lowered across his fair skin, taking languorous but weighted pauses in between each sip.

Then he was done, and the shrine maiden took the cup from him, and held it out towards Hisana.

Hisana accepted it, inclining her hooded head slightly in respect. She continued holding it out as the shrine maiden poured more sake into the cup.

When the cup was filled nearly to the brim, she raised it to her rouged lips, her heart going faster at the thought that it was the same lacquered surface where her lover had touched with his own lips. She touched the brim of the cup with her mouth, wondering—and hoping—that it was the same spot where Byakuya's lips had been. She almost thought she could taste the cool mintiness of his sensuous mouth.

In that instance, Hisana was grateful for her _wataboshi_ , as it hid most of her face from view. She couldn't believe she was entertaining such lascivious thoughts in front of so many people present.

Perhaps she was truly unsuited to nobility, after all.

Yet she didn't care. She held the cup to her mouth for a lingering moment, inhaling the crisp notes of sake and feeling fiercely possessive over that minute spot on the brim of the cup. Then she relinquished the cup, having pressed it to her parted lips thrice.

From what Hisana understood, the first serving of sake signified a salute to the heavens, which in this case, represented the aristocratic ancestors of the Kuchiki Clan.

The shrine maiden took the cup back from Hisana, making no comment at how it was still almost full. She picked up another sake cup that had been arranged below the first and held it back to the bride.

Hisana accepted it once more, and stayed still as the shrine maiden poured her another serving of sake, the quantity having been reduced this time. Hisana knew that the latter had been notified prior to make discreet accommodations around the fact that Hisana was a severe lightweight.

The second serving symbolised the earth, which also referred to the couple's vows to take care of the other for the rest of their lives. Hisana brought the cup back to her lips, the warmth in her chest blossoming. This was a vow she planned to strongly uphold. Regardless of how limited her capabilities might be, she would care for and protect the man she loved. He had the world of a burden on his shoulders: the Sixth Division, the Kuchiki House, and even herself.

No matter what, as his life companion, she would strive to alleviate his burden whenever she could.

This time, Hisana sipped the sake, struggling not to scrunch up her fine features at the astringent taste. Not wanting to embarrass herself for fear that she did get drunk, she made sure that she took very tiny sips.

Then she was done, and she exhaled softly in relief, and extended the cup back to the shrine maiden.

The shrine maiden passed it back to Byakuya, then poured a little more sake into it. Hisana peeked timidly from the side of her _wataboshi,_ and, abruptly, her pulse stuttered, a horrified gasp nearly tearing from her throat when she spotted the cup in his slender, long-fingered hands. She couldn't believe she'd only noticed this now.

There was a scarlet mark on the mahogany-red cup, the mark a lighter shade of colour than the cup itself. The mark was in the shape of her lips, where her rouge had ended up being transferred onto it.

Hisana was beyond mortified. She didn't dare to look up at her groom's face. Had he noticed it? There was a chance he wouldn't have, since the mark was red like the cup.

There was nothing she could do, however, but stand there and watch helplessly as the shrine maiden tilted the sake pot away from the cup, having filled it sufficiently. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the trainwreck she'd unknowingly caused as her groom brought the tainted cup to his lips.

His pale lips landed directly on where the rouge stain of her kiss mark was, and she flushed. Her face coloured further when those knowing slate grey eyes glanced sideways in her direction and pierced her violet ones intently as he did so.

Hisana resisted the urge to fidget, hot arousal growing in her lower abdomen. No one else seemed privy to the wordless yet heated exchange between the couple, and Byakuya's tranquil disposition gave nothing away. Not for the first time, she wished she had his ironclad control over his emotions, at least on the surface.

Three sips later, he was finished with the cup, and he passed it back to the shrine maiden. He lifted his other hand at the same time and casually removed any traces of rouge on his lips with a single fluid swipe of his thumb.

By now, Hisana's cheeks were burning. She turned her head and trained her gaze resolutely on the oblivious shrine maiden, who had put down the used cup and snagged the final sake cup on the pedestal.

The final round of the _san-san-kudo_ symbolised, as simply put, people. It revolved primarily around the fertility of the couple. At that, Hisana lowered her head. That was a subject matter she didn't want to think of now. They were only just married today, so surely it was too soon to think about that at present?

And as she watched her newly wedded husband sip from his freshly offered sake cup, she decided that it was most definitely something she did not wish to consider for a long, long time.

* * *

After the wedding rituals by the shrine had finally concluded, a banquet had ensued. It had taken place on the extensive Kuchiki grounds, with rectangular low wooden tables covered in white silk tablecloths spread out around the breathtaking gardens, allowing the participants of the feast to enjoy the scenery as they dined. Hisana had always been awestruck by the grounds of the estate. It didn't matter how many times she'd seen it: the view was unerringly stunning.

It was currently near the end of spring, in May, which meant all the cherry and plum blossom trees had fully bloomed, its branches flourishing with wild formations of pink and white, the paved stone paths, raked gravel and the immaculately trimmed green moss of the ground littered with fallen fuchsia petals. Stone lanterns were erected in intervals amidst the greenery.

There were also perfectly sheared topiary of juniper and boxwood, as well as Japanese cypress and black pine trees. An impressive clear lake sat punctuated by round stepping stones, where all the guests could watch the resplendent golden _Ōgon_ and _Hariwake_ koi frolicking inside the water. Flower petals had landed on the surface of the river and lake, both of which were linked together by a small distributary. It was mesmerising seeing the iridescent hues of white, gold, and pink mingling on the flowing water.

Today, the enjoyment of the arresting landscape was even further heightened by several female musicians playing the _koto._ All of the guests were dressed in their finest kimonos, the ladies with their hair pinned up by varying _kanzashi,_ which Hisana had expected no less from other members of the Kuchiki House as well as lesser noble families.

Despite the picturesque scenery that she'd always thoroughly admired of the estate, she couldn't allow herself to relax enough to appreciate it this time. She felt as if the atmosphere was marred by the austere presence of countless aristocrats, their scrutiny all aimed at the infamous bride from the Rukon District who was now the Lady of the Kuchiki House. Out of all the noble families she could have married into, it had been one of the Four Noble Houses, the most prestigious level of aristocracy in Soul Society.

Needless to say, the dishes of the feast, served course after course onto fan-shaped lacquered gray-blue trays on each of their respective tables, only emphasised that point.

The first course had comprised of red rice—glutinous rice concocted from _azuki_ beans—sprinkled with toasted sesame seeds and salt inside small porcelain bowls. _Kombu_ broth was also served, containing said kelp, tofu, sliced green onions, sesame seeds, and carrots. Dainty offerings of scallop shells with herring roe—a traditional must for most Japanese weddings—were served as well.

The next course had included red rice again, together with teeny platters of sweet rolled omelettes and cubes of fully-cooked sizzling _wagyu_ beef, and the subsequent course after had been miniature plates of grilled _matsutake_ mushrooms and bite-sized offerings of boiled green peas and simmered taro. Cups of matcha and drinking saucers of sake were constantly refilled by waitresses.

Hisana, seated beside her husband by the table at the forefront of the banquet, darted her violet eyes towards a lone table located at the far end of her vantage point.

Obā-chan sat alone by the table, which was stacked with the same course of dishes the rest of the guests were having. Even though she was mostly alone save for the occasional moment where a handmaid would offer her a new course of culinary heaven or simply go to check on her, she appeared absolutely fine, her focus directed on the decadent meal. If anything, Hisana had never seen Obā-chan look so happy.

It took her a moment to realise the food was an excellent enough distraction. It was obviously a colossal upgrade from the stale bread that the residents of Hanging Dog normally ate. Even most common Shinigami in the Gotei Thirteen did not typically indulge in premium delicacies like _wagyu_ beef or _matsutake_ mushrooms.

She felt a stab of guilt for how much of her meals she'd taken for granted since her two month stay in the Kuchiki Manor; in fact, she hadn't even eaten much now, having been too wired and nervous about the other aristocrats. Now that her _wataboshi_ had been removed, leaving just the plum blossom _kanzashi_ in her hair, she felt uncomfortably exposed.

As much as Hisana wanted to go and speak to Obā-chan, she knew she could not right now. Throughout the banquet, their guests had taken turns visiting the table she shared with her husband to pay their respects and congratulate him. She'd only nodded and smiled thus far without saying a word, and she hadn't needed to, since their congratulations were clearly directed at Byakuya. She was just an extension to his presence, someone they acknowledged perfunctorily whilst they addressed the Head of the House.

"Byakuya-sama."

Hisana's breathing slowed.

The woman that now stood before their table was hauntingly familiar. The burnished gleam of her flaxen gold hair, the feline slant of her exotic emerald eyes, and the Cupid's bow of her voluptuous lips—they were all sublime physical traits Kasumiōji Itsumi had, which alluded strongly to her patrician heritage. However, this woman was not Itsumi; she was older, as evident by the faint crow's feet around her heavily made-up eyes, and there were subtle differences in her narrow features; her green eyes were slightly smaller, cheekbones higher, and her lips wider.

She was even more dignified and regal than Itsumi, and was perhaps taller than the latter was. Her golden hair, arranged in a high bun, was pinned up by _bira kanzashi,_ designed in a filigree work of bronze chrysanthemum flowers that went splendidly with the yellow of her hair, and where lengthy bronze chains gilded by the outline of teensy butterflies dangled along the side of her haughty head. She wore a very formal and expensive kimono embodying a kaleidoscope of colours: white, tawny, and vermillion, shrouded in floral prints of camelia, sunflowers and lotuses.

"Byakuya-sama," the woman repeated, taking a deep bow. "On behalf of the Kasumiōji Clan, I would like to congratulate you on your marriage to Hisana-sama. We wish you both a fruitful and prosperous marriage."

It was then when Hisana figured that the woman was the Head of the Kasumiōji Clan.

"I apologise for Itsumi's absence today, Byakuya-sama," the woman continued, dipping her head. "She is unfortunately indisposed at the moment. I hope Byakuya-sama can forgive any impudence her absence might have reflected on our family."

Hisana's stomach rolled. She had a feeling that Itsumi wasn't 'indisposed' at all.

She was just unable to watch the man she was in love with marry another woman, not to mention a woman of such a deplorably low station, at that.

Byakuya said nothing, but merely inclined his midnight head in acknowledgement. The Head of the Kasumiōji Clan bowed a final time, and then withdrew from the front of their table, her catlike emerald eyes lingering a second longer at Hisana.

Hisana knew she was not imagining the controlled contempt in the other woman's eyes.

By the time dessert was served, most of the guests, if not all, had visited their table to offer greetings. Hisana, sipping her matcha as she worked on mustering the courage she needed, turned to her husband meekly.

"Byakuya-sama," she began softly. "May I go and speak to Obā-chan?"

He regarded her with his usual unfathomable mien.

"Yes," he said quietly. "Go ahead."

"Thank you, Byakuya-sama," Hisana exhaled, breaking into a relieved smile. "I'll return shortly."

He said nothing more to that, but she could feel his silvery gaze on her as she gathered the hems of her extravagant _shiromuku_ and rose to her feet. Careful not to dirty the lavish white ensemble, she picked her way around the table slowly, the same time Akari scrambled over and helped to lift the silk of her train.

"Thank you, Akari-san," Hisana said gently. She thought she heard shocked murmurs from a few nobles seated nearby, and she looked away. Most members of nobility didn't address their servants by such formality, as evident by what her own husband had told her prior, but this was the one practice she refused to adhere to.

Keeping her gaze averted from the rest of the highborn guests, she walked with her head slightly lowered towards the table at the other end of the courtyard, where Obā-chan sat. She felt her mood lightening when the old lady looked up at her approach, a welcoming beam forming on her wizened features.

"Well, well, well," she grinned, as Hisana stopped hesitantly in front of her. "What are you standing gawping at me for? It's about time you came to see me! Sit down."

With that said, she patted the empty _zabuton_ beside the one she was sitting on with a shriveled hand.

Hisana sat, Akari assisting her by cautiously grasping the trailing hem of her _uchikake_ and arranging it nearly around the former's curled legs. Tatami mats had been laid out under the _zabuton_ beside the table for the very purpose of preserving the occupants' attire.

"Thank you, Akari-san," Hisana said again gratefully, and the pleased handmaid bowed deeply once she was done and withdrew.

"Look at you, dear," Obā-chan sighed, putting down her fork beside her bowl of sliced Yubari melon. "A bride, and such a beautiful one at that! I never thought I'd see the day you became one. Weddings don't happen often in Hanging Dog, so I must have done something really good in my past life to see this."

"I'm so, so happy that you're here, Obā-chan," Hisana said fervently, her hands clasped together to hide their tremor from her emotions. "But I don't understand… how—?"

Obā-chan snorted.

"How else?" she drawled. "Your man arranged this. Seriously, Hisana, out of all the men you could've married, you just had to end up with one of the most powerful ones in Soul Society, eh?"

Hisana flushed. "I—I don't know how it happened either," she admitted honestly. "Of all the men I could have fallen in love with, it had to be him."

"Well, I'll tell you I almost had a heart attack when his retainer showed up at my doorstep asking me this time if I'd like to attend your wedding," Obā-chan declared. "I knew you were marrying someone, but you didn't tell me you were marrying into one of the _Noble Houses_ in Seireitei. You didn't tell me you were marrying a Captain of the Gotei Thirteen. You didn't tell me anything other than that you were getting married—I thought you were marrying some well-off fellow in another district!"

Hisana winced. It was hard to ignore the accusatory note in Obā-chan's voice.

"Obā-chan," she began placatingly, but the older woman went on, brushing her apology aside.

"Anyway, here I am, and in this nice kimono too!" she revealed proudly, waving the navy blue silk sleeves of the garment. "The retainer also told me that arrangements could be made for me to stay in Junrinan from now on, but I said no."

"What?" Hisana gasped. Junrinan was the first district in the Rukon District, and was far less impoverished than Hanging Dog. Byakuya had offered to arrange that for Obā-chan? "Why refuse, Obā-chan? Life would be much easier for you there, not to mention you would be closer to your grandson..."

Obā-chan scowled. "Don't even talk to me about that unfilial little brat," she growled. "He's barely reached out to me since he's entered the Gotei Thirteen. Anyway, I'm not interested in Junrinan. I was born in Hanging Dog, and that's where I'll spend the rest of my life. I appreciate the offer, but that's about it."

"I see..." Hisana assented gently at last, resigned but understanding.

Obā-chan guzzled some sake, then put the drinking saucer down.

"That's one hell of a man you've got, Hisana," she said offhandedly.

"He's very kind, isn't he?" Hisana breathed out, feeling the mild sting of tears in the corners of her eyes. "I can't believe he arranged all this for you, and he didn't tell me…"

"I don't know if he's kind," Obā-chan said. "But I do have to warn you, Hisana, to take care of yourself. It's a luxurious life, yes, but I'm a little worried. In this place, in Seireitei, your only connection here is your husband. You don't have any other bond." At Hisana's confounded expression, she ploughed on. "Technically, you don't have any source of income, so everything from the clothes you wear to the food you eat are from him. That means you're completely dependent on him. And that can be dangerous."

A crease formed between Hisana's brows. "What do you mean?"

"You've felt it, haven't you?" Obā-chan asked. "Sitting there, existing in this world not as yourself, but only as Kuchiki Byakuya's wife. The only person to whom you exist as yourself here… is him."

Hisana stared down at her lap. It rattled her how Obā-chan had coalesced everything into words. Had her feelings been that obvious?

"Why do you think I was invited here?" Obā-chan quizzed her. "Because he wanted to give you a familiar face—another connection—to reassure you. Everything that man's done, it's been for you, not for me. Even moving me into Junrinan—it's to give you a peace of mind about my welfare. If I wasn't so sure that this man loved you so much, I would have objected to this marriage."

Hisana looked up at Obā-chan wonderingly. She'd never realised that. Had Byakuya truly done all this… for her?

He had never once said that he loved her, but for some reason, she'd never felt the distinct absence of those words. She didn't need him to say them to her, had never felt bereft that he hadn't said it. Sometimes it even shocked her to realise he had never said it.

Because Hisana knew, even without his saying it, that he did. Even outsiders like Obā-chan had felt it, and the old woman never even spoken directly to him, only through his retainers.

And yet that was what Hisana loved about him. She loved this distant, taciturn man, loved that he didn't have to speak to express his sentiments, loved that he acted as such instead. And despite what Obā-chan believed, Hisana loved the hints of kindness that she had seen beneath his arrogant exterior.

For during their first encounter, he had healed her ankle whilst she was been unconscious, and she knew she had been a complete stranger to him then.

"Don't you ever forget, Hisana," Obā-chan said abruptly, snapping her out of her reverie, "that you matter."

Hisana started, taken aback by her statement. "I'm sorry?"

"Regardless of where you are, be it in Seireitei, or Hanging Dog," Obā-chan reiterated, "you are your own person. You're not an extension of anyone. _You matter,_ Hisana." She stared at the bride steadily. "And don't you forget it."

* * *

 _:tbc:_

* * *

 **A/N:** This is the first part to the Wedding two-shot. The next chapter will be a direct sequel.


	17. Chapter 17: The Wedding — Part II

**Verse:** 'Half-Canon'.

* * *

The sun had just begun to sink into the horizon by the time the banquet disbanded, the sky a mix of rose and gold, the clouds pallid swirls on the beautifully tinged canvas of the sunset. It had been a long day; Hisana had spent the whole morning getting ready while the actual wedding ceremony had taken place in the early afternoon, and the banquet after. The guests had eventually departed, having been seen off by a dutiful Seike, and so had a cheerful Obā-chan, who was being escorted by one of the Kuchiki retainers back to Hanging Dog.

Hisana had been sad to see her go.

She was currently walking alongside her husband on the _engawa_ of the Manor, which overlooked the massive grounds, where she could see the servants of the Kuchiki House clearing up the remains of the banquet. It was the first time today that she had any alone time with him, she realised with a jolt. Now that the guests were gone, it felt disarmingly hushed.

Hisana stole a sideways peek at her husband. He looked the same as always: placid and blasé. If not for the fact that he was dressed in his _montsuki,_ today could have appeared to be any other day instead of his wedding day.

"Byakuya-sama," Hisana piped up softly. The breeze lifted the ends of their hair, brushing the ebony strands across the sides of their cheeks. "Obā-chan told me about what you did for her. Thank you for having her here… and for everything."

He glanced briefly at her. Instead of saying anything in response, he stopped, and slid open a _shōji_ door that stood before them. Hisana turned her head towards the interior. She recognised it immediately.

It was their shared quarters.

Byakuya removed his footwear smoothly on the _engawa_ and stepped in, and an uncertain Hisana followed suit. Her heart was beginning to strum within her ribs at a mad pace, and suddenly, the act of going into their room together didn't feel similar to how it'd been on any other evening for the past two months.

During that time, they had been intimate, but had never once crossed the line into lovemaking. Hisana recalled now that she had requested that they abstain until their wedding day, which he had accepted.

And today was said day. She had been so preoccupied by the festivities and the guests involved as well as Obā-chan's arrival that she had completely forgotten about their agreement. Being able to make it to their wedding day after the arduous process of having their _nyuseki_ accepted was already a feat in itself that she hadn't yet put into thought the implications beyond that.

Trying to swallow the anxious lump in her throat, Hisana busied herself with closing the opened _shōji_ door with more concentration that was required.

Once the door was shut, however, she was forced to indolently shuffle back around to face her newly wedded husband, her hands wound together under the snow-white sleeves of her _shiromuku_. He stood some distance away within the room, studying her with those piercing slate grey eyes.

Hisana felt overwhelmingly shy then. After all, she was completely dressed for the occasion, what with her made-up face—though most of her rouge had been transferred to her teacup—and her elaborate _shiromuku._ It had been easier not to be self-conscious about his possible appraisal of her appearance when she had been in the presence of so many other people, but now that they were alone, it was a different story altogether.

Hisama parted her lips, desperate to say something to break the pregnant lull, but he spoke then, in even, velvety tones.

"Come here."

Hisana obeyed, feeling almost relieved. She didn't know how else to take initiative in their situation. Apprehensive as she was, she was actually grateful for the dynamics in their relationship. He had always taken care of her, allowing her to take charge only when she was comfortable doing so. She didn't know if this was conventional for most couples, but he made her feel safe, and that was all she needed.

The girl stopped directly in front of him, her hands still entwined together. For a heartbeat, they gazed at each other, her head tilted abashedly, violet meeting slate grey. Her breath seemed to have stopped in her lungs. He looked so serene, so unflappable, that she wished she could tell what he was thinking…

Then Byakuya lowered his raven head, and her lashes fluttered closed instinctively as the tantalising slant of his cool, soft lips found hers. The kiss started out lingering and tentative at first, their mouths probing each other in vague exploration on the surface.

As the kiss gradually deepened, every measured stroke of his mouth patiently persuading hers open, she found her delicate hands slackening from where she'd been balling them together, only to then rise unconsciously to grasp the front of his _montsuki._ She could taste the delectable mint on his mouth that she so adored, and the additional fruity sweet tangs of melon from their dessert earlier. Fruit was the only exception her husband made when it came to accepting dessert.

Hisana tried to tiptoe to delve further into their kiss, hungry for more, but to her dismay, he abruptly broke it off.

"Byakuya-sama," she protested, but was immediately silenced when his adroit hands reached for the front of her _shiromuku._ He undid her _uchikake_ effortlessly, and promptly slid the pearly-white over-kimono down her petite shoulders.

Hisana took in a laboured breath. It was really happening then. Any uncertainties—thoughts of how she might have misread his intentions—she had were now eradicated. It was absurd for her to be this stupefied right now; she'd known, over the course of two months, that her husband wanted her as much as she did him. Inexperienced as she might be, she could still tell when a man wanted a woman, even a man as cool and unruffled as Byakuya, and especially since he'd never actually made a secret of it despite never saying it aloud.

It was there in the way his eyes darkened as he gazed at her, in the way he kissed her, in the way his gloved hands lingered on areas of her body whenever they caressed each other during past intimate moments; she, shyly, him, unfazedly.

What he saw in her compared to other tall, buxom beauties in Seireitei like Kasumiōji Itsumi, she didn't know.

The fact of the matter was, Hisana was a virgin. And it was commonly mentioned in the Rukon District that a woman's first time was always painful.

She willed herself to ignore those thoughts as her _uchikake_ fell to the floor behind her, aware that her lover was watching her. A noiseless second passed, and she knew he was gauging her reaction, to see if she accepted their current proceedings.

In a way, Byakuya was asking for permission, and Hisana felt her eyes mist over at the thought.

She reached out and gently tugged at the _himo_ of his dark haori, attempting to undo it. His garments were dark as hers was a chaste white, so that she could be dyed in his colours.

His grey eyes flashed at her wordless answer, and almost instantly, she felt his warm hands curl around her thin wrists, halting her. She wanted to protest again, but before she knew it, his mouth was on hers again, the same time his nimble fingers deftly undid her ivory _obi._ It was impossible to think when he was kissing her like that, and it was all she could do to breathe him in, her head spinning as his sleek, hot tongue touched her smaller one.

Throughout the kiss, Hisana was only dimly aware that he was disrobing the rest of her _shiromuku_ with a swift efficiency that would have daunted her had she not been greatly distracted by the heady scent of him and the intertwining of their tongues. The next thing she knew, he'd set aside the sheathed dagger tucked to her chest, and her pure white furisode had joined her fallen _obi_ —along with the folding fan and brocade purse attached, as well as the separate binds of the _obi_ —and _uchikake_ on the floor at her feet. He was shrugging aside the layers of her _nagajuban_ now as he descended from her open, wet mouth and marked a trail of suckling kisses down the alabaster column of her neck.

"Byakuya-sama…" Hisana whispered dazedly, so drunk on the sensations he invoked within her that she couldn't think straight. Her _nagajuban_ was readily removed from her person, his sharp teeth nipping at her smooth, satiny skin as he did so, and her partner then proceeded to unbind the cord of her _hadajuban_ effortlessly.

As the pale undergarment split apart under the loosened cord _,_ he knelt down fully onto the tatami floor, planting more addling kisses away from her ravaged neck and down her clavicles, and finally to the swell of her small but rounded breasts. Besides the opened _hadajuban,_ she wore nothing but her panties and _kanzashi._

Hisana cried out Byakuya's name, cradling his raven head to her bosom as he took one of the rosy peaks of her nipples into his mouth and sucked. He alternated languorously between both breasts, kissing all over the miniature creamy mounds of flesh and taking turns to lavish attention on her nipples with his lips and tongue until both the pink buds were erected and swollen.

Hisana's legs were quivering by then, and it was getting very difficult to stand from the molten heat pooling her nether regions at his ministrations.

"Byakuya-sama," she gasped out raggedly, trying to pull back from his sensuous mouth. "Let me… You're not—your clothes…"

She was an incoherent mess, but fortunately for her, Byakuya understood. He paused for a fraction, gazing up at her and taking in her blushing, stricken profile, her cheeks suffused with colour and her lidded lavender eyes glazed beneath her thick, dark lashes. She was embarrassed by the intensity in his scrutiny, and was just about to look away when he rose gracefully to his feet, startling her.

"Let me," Hisana repeated softly, but determinedly. She reached for his haori _himo,_ fingers meekly working on undoing the knot against the front of his torso. It took her a few moments before she managed to unravel it, and she tiptoed so as to bring the sleeves of his slackened haori down his broad shoulders.

Then, her mouth going dry, she approached the intricate _himo_ of his _hakama_ , and worked on untying the multiple knots. Her nerves made her progress clumsy, but he made no move to rush her, his gaze resting sedately on his wife as she worked.

Soon enough, she loosened the _hakama_ , leaving him in his night blue silk kimono as he stepped promptly out of the fallen material pooling around his feet. She worked on unraveling his _obi_ belt next, and faltered when it finally came undone in her palms, causing the sides of his kimono to fall asunder and revealing the plain _juban_ he wore underneath.

By this point, Hisana's fingers were shaking visibly as she clutched his _obi_ belt. Gently, Byakuya brushed the belt from her grasp, allowing it to drop to the floor. Without waiting for her to resume her task of undressing him—and obviously noting her fluster—he discarded the robe of his kimono carelessly, tossing it unhesitatingly to the growing pile of apparel on the floor.

"I'm sorry—" Hisana stepped forward contritely, upset that he'd had to take over for her in the end. He took her outstretched hand in his, tugging her closer to him, and she let out a whispery sigh when he kissed her, his lips claiming hers thoroughly, reigniting potent flares of arousal in her lower region once more.

This time, her already weakened legs began to give away, much to her distant alarm, but his other arm circled the curve of her back, catching her the same time her swollen, pillaged mouth separated from his. The hand holding hers relinquished its grip and slid under the crook of her knees, and a second later he'd picked her slight frame up in his arms, the hem of her unbound _hadajuban_ flickering.

She froze, trying to process the change in equilibrium, and remained stock-still as Byakuya brought her to one of the two futons joined together in the center of the room. He laid her down on the plush bedding, the cotton of her _hadajuban_ drawn out under her, and on a wild whim she wound her arms around his neck, his long midnight hair cascading off the back of her hands, and rained little tender kisses down the angular, handsome planes of his face, from his lids to his chiseled cheekbones and along his defined jawline.

The slate grey of his eyes reminded her exactly of the canvas of the night sky cast under moonlight, she thought reverently.

Hisana had never seen a man so beautiful.

Byakuya allowed her kisses for several seconds, his sooty lashes skimming his cheekbones, and then he retreated, carefully disentangling her skinny arms from around his neck.

For a minute, something sickening spurted within Hisana at the notion that he was rejecting her advances, but his head dipped and she felt him deliberately press a kiss to every indentation of her prominent ribs under her breasts. She thought with a stricken pang that his visage looked more unsmiling than ever in that instance, and she wondered miserably if she revulsed him. He made his way down her bare belly, and she squirmed, exhaling unsteadily at the unexpectedness of where he was kissing her.

He continued kissing down the path of her abdomen, and she sucked in her breath when she realised where he was heading to.

He'd done this for her about twice so far, and while it had been explosively pleasurable on her part, Hisana was still unable to wrap her head around the filthiness of the act. The first time he'd done it, she'd almost passed out when she registered what he was doing. She couldn't believe an aristocrat of his standing would sully himself like that by placing his mouth where she… excreted from.

She couldn't believe that there existed lovers who did that, period. Perhaps she was innocent and naïve regarding the illicit world of coitus, but it simply felt so _wrong_.

"Byakuya-sama, no…" Hisana whispered. "It's dirty there, please don't, you'll fall ill—"

Her husband paid her no heed, sliding a pillow from the neighbouring futon under her hips to elevate them, before calmly stripping away her underwear and sliding the cotton article smoothly down her slim legs. She prayed, mortified, that he wouldn't notice that the fabric was exceedingly damp. Having discarded her panties behind him, he licked a fiery stripe along the milky, baby-soft flesh of her left inner thigh, and she gasped sharply, taken off-guard by how raw the sensation was, especially when he bit down lightly. With his elegant hand splayed on her other thigh to keep them spread, he bent closer and ran his tongue across the dewy, slippery pink folds between them.

Hisana cried out in ecstasy, unable to help herself. Before Byakuya, no one, not even herself, had ever touched such a private spot before with their hands, let alone their tongue. As obscene as it was, she couldn't deny that it felt incredible.

"Please, Byakuya-sama, you'll get sick," she begged, panting, trying to strain her slender thighs against his far stronger hands to no avail.

The Captain lifted his head, his darkened grey eyes—a sign Hisana now recognised as male desire—boring into her violet ones.

"I won't," he said simply.

She didn't understand how doing this for her gave him any pleasure. Yet it was evident her lover liked performing the act; if she wasn't mistaken, she'd think he liked it as much as she did when it came to the pleasure she felt.

Hisana grabbed the sides of her _hadajuban_ beneath her, mewling as he continued running his tongue across her folds, veering an entire strip from the top of her vulva and down below. She felt the sleek, agile appendage lave the sensitised nub of her clitoris along the way, and she arched her back at once, her moan rising into a half-scream when he bypassed that particular area.

Frustratingly enough, he deliberately missed that spot the next few times he licked her, making her whimper at how heightened yet infuriating his mouth felt against her, the area where her clitoris was throbbing conspicuously with neglect.

"Byakuya-sama, please," Hisana managed hoarsely, not missing the irony of her pleas now. "Please…"

In response, her husband parted her sodden folds further with a calloused thumb, and gently caressed the engorged, blood-filled bud of her exposed clit with feather-light licks of his tongue.

Hisana's back arched violently on the futon—with how he'd pointedly ignored that sensitive spot earlier, the full attention on it now was excruciating. He continued stroking it mercilessly with his slick tongue until she felt the simmering tension within her belly surge to a boiling point, and then combust.

"Bya _—Byakuya-sama!_ "

She let out a high-pitched scream as she came undone, her inner muscles erupting into a series of contractions. She could feel herself fluttering sporadically around his coaxing tongue, and her white-knuckled hands tightened on her _hadajuban,_ nearly tearing it in the midst of her euphoria.

Eventually, Hisana came down from the high of her orgasm, collapsing back onto the futon mattress. She opened her eyes blearily, realising with a jolt that tears blurred her vision, her heartbeat hammering maniacally.

Byakuya straightened, licking his lips lazily, appearing as unnervingly tranquil as ever. She flushed fiercely, knowing he was taking his time to lap at her abundant fluid release on his mouth.

But he wasn't done with her yet. Hisana felt his calloused thumb circling the drenched flesh of her sex, seemingly about to fondle her clitoris as he always did whenever his hand was between her legs. But she was oversensitive there right now, and she twisted away instinctively.

"I'm sorry, I'm—" Hisana choked out, but he interrupted her quietly, having apparently read her mind.

"It's all right," he murmured, transferring the pillow that had slipped out under her hips back to the neighbouring futon. "I'm not touching there now."

Her curiosity grew. He wasn't touching her there? Then what did he intend to do? He'd never done anything else before. She didn't see what else he could do with his fingers—

Hisana's breath hitched, her violet eyes dilating. She could feel his slender middle finger gently testing her entrance, at the slit of her opening further down below her clitoris.

The same opening, she realised, where she would accept his entry during lovemaking.

Hisana stayed still on the futon, her breathing uneven, her small breasts rising and falling harshly at the strange but acute sensation of being breached. She was dripping all over Byakuya's hand now, but she was too distracted by the unhurried but steady pace of his digit sinking inside of her to notice, her tight, wet channel clamping onto said digit like a snug, heated glove.

She didn't know what to make of this. It wasn't painful, just mildly discomfiting and very pervasive. Yet the pervasiveness of it all seemed to make the experience lewder, and, ashamed as she was to admit it, the obscenity only excited her further. Her husband's smothering grey eyes ensnared hers the entire time, and she was too paralysed by his penetration to look away.

Before long, the full length of his finger had gone in, and he paused, giving her time to adjust. She was panting a bit now, her plum blossom _kanzashi_ lopsided on her disheveled hair, and she cocked her head further back into the pillow, pink lips parting in a broken inhalation as he then introduced a second finger—his forefinger—into her.

Hazily Hisana realised Byakuya was preparing her for the main event, opening her up for him with both his clever, coaxing fingers. His second finger joined the first much quicker than before now that she'd unfurled more to invite him in, her fleshy inner walls engulfing both digits in a vice-grip.

And then, very slowly, he pulled both fingers out slightly, and she groaned at the suction of her stretched channel clenching in protest onto him at his withdrawal. Even he must have felt it, judging by how his gaze darkened as she squeezed him.

Then he plunged his fingers back into her, and Hisana expelled a strangled cry at the divine friction the motion elicited within her. He repeated the motions several times, retreating further and driving his long digits back with increasing force at every turn. She was moaning uncontrollably now, bucking her slim hips without thought into his obliging hand, the familiar scorching pressure rekindling in her loins at the incessant friction.

At the final thrust, however, Hisana felt Byakuya crook his fingers, as if beckoning something—or someone—to come hither. What resulted were the pads of his fingertips rubbing on some magic spot inside of her that turned her vision a blinding white and tore a scream from her throat at the agonising spark of pleasure his fingers set off.

And he hadn't touched her clitoris at all.

Hisana, not having anticipated this onslaught, came again at once, her lavender eyes rolling back in her head and her body going as taut as a bowstring, and gasped out a soundless scream. Her vaginal muscles went off in succession of erratic spasms as they pulsed around his fingers and wrung him unforgivingly at intervals.

For several seconds, Hisana almost thought she would snap from the ferocity of her release.

When her doe eyes weakly fluttered open again, her thick lashes saturated with tears and her sylphlike limbs turned to mush on the futon, it was to Byakuya watching her soundlessly with an intensity that bordered on predatory, and her pulse skittered. As she lay, spent, before him, he began to withdraw his heavily slickened fingers from inside of her, extracting them carefully and causing her to shudder at the renewed vestiges of friction as they gradually glided out of her.

Sluggishly, Hisana tried to raise her head from the pillow. So far she'd done nothing but receive, and she wanted badly to repay the favour. During the past times they'd been intimate, her lover had taught her marginally on how to pleasure as well as be pleasured, through the latter had definitely been emphasised; for the former, she'd been guided to wrap her hands around the length of him, and stroke, and that was about as far as she knew.

"Byakuya-sama," Hisana struggled out. "Please, let me t–touch you…" Her cheeks burned, but she knew he'd be able to understand what she meant without going into too much detail. Reading between the lines was a specialty the two shared, due to their individual traits: she was too timid, and he was unerringly laconic.

He kissed her again, lips melding together passionately. She reciprocated eagerly, with as much zeal as she could muster in spite of her drained limbs, and, to her embarrassed astonishment, detected an added element of something tangy and musky that must have been from her release. They kissed for a beat more, tongues nuzzling so sweetly she irrationally longed to cry, and then he finally moved away, leaving her lips ravaged, puffy and wanting more. She swallowed as he reached for the cord tying his plain _juban_ together and, without the slightest bit of hesitation, neatly untied said cord, the sides of the robe loosening apart on either side of him.

It was then when Hisana knew that Byakuya was not interested in what she had offered him just now, not when he could have all of her. She stared, enchanted, at the sleek, sinuous musculature of his torso, his skin a toned pale marble, lying smooth over subtle slabs of muscle. She raised a tremulous dainty hand and gently touched his bare chest, then shyly traced the sculpted lines of his abs with her fingertips. He was warm and hard, without an ounce of fat on his lean, wiry frame.

She wanted to touch him forever, to lovingly trace every bit of him until his outline was forever ingrained in her skin.

Her lover might not look intimidating in terms of bulk, but only fools would underestimate his strength. He was a killing machine, one of Seireitei's deadliest soldiers. If he so wanted, he could bare-handedly end her life in a heartbeat. He wouldn't even require his sword.

But Hisana could not think of how lethal Kuchiki Byakuya was when he gazed at her like that, those dark eyes caressing her blushing face, and at the impressive sight of his arousal further down south, an indication of how much she'd aroused him—and how much he wanted her.

Slowly, but deliberately, he spread her creamy thighs apart for him on the futon, his long-fingered hands enfolding the width of her knees and skimming down along her narrow calves, the calloused pads of his fingers lingering intimately on her silky skin for such a laden, drawn-out moment she felt gooseflesh erupt.

Then Byakuya curled her right leg around his waist under his _juban_ , and hunkered over her supine body a little from the side, his arm placed on the bedding beside her head to keep himself upright. In this position, his piercing slate grey ones cut straight into her violet orbs, and she didn't know whether to be intimidated or turned on. Probably both, she found.

Then the drumming of her heart escalated further when he spoke.

"Hold onto me."

Hisana had no idea how he could sound so unflustered and collected—even the way he spoke was the same: languid but precise, as if every word uttered in that rich baritone was carefully weighed.

Hisana did as she was told, more than willing to hold onto him. She slung both arms around his slender neck, threading her fingertips through the silken raven tresses of his hair. His alluring scent tickled her olfactory senses, comprising of rain, hints of vintage old books and lavender ink, as well as an unique masculine scent she couldn't describe but which she inhaled greedily.

It was a delicious scent she could only ascribe to him.

And then Hisana felt the head of him gently probing her entrance between her thighs, and she inhaled shallowly, scrunching her eyes shut as she continued breathing him in.

This was it. She was fazed, that much was true, but she wanted to consummate their relationship as much as Byakuya did. A part of her was flummoxed that he hadn't used a sheath as protection, but that part was easily drowned out by the mix of excitement and apprehension in her tummy at what was to come.

He kissed her shut eyes, his minty lips soft and surprisingly demonstrative on her lids. His other hand went in between her legs where he was about to enter her, and ran his thumb across her little distended clitoris peeping through the saturated flushed folds of her vulva. She hissed loudly, not expecting him to stimulate her in that moment, and he continued thumbing her clitoris attentively as he worked his way patiently into her bit by bit. Not once did he rush his progress; he went at it almost leisurely, as if he had all the time in the world.

Suffice to say, his erection was much bigger than his two fingers, and Hisana moaned at the overwhelming sensation of her rosy folds parting to accommodate his size for the very first time, as well as having her hypersensitive clitoris fondled unrelentingly between his soaked fingers from how much she was leaking.

"Are you feeling all right?" Byakuya murmured calmly.

Hisana nodded tersely, not trusting herself to speak, though technically, she was sure she couldn't even if she wanted to. She was far too overcome from being stimulated both clitorally and through the beginnings of intercourse to articulate coherent words. Hisana was already considered tiny for a female, let alone compared to him, and working himself into her thus made for quite a challenge.

And then, at some point, he stopped, and she could feel a certain resistance inside of her against him.

Her blood ran cold. It was her maidenhead.

Byakuya ceased any further attempts to enter her entirely, and she felt his hand clasp her clitoris, the calluses of his thumb rubbing intently against the swollen, engorged bud. He continued petting her clit, making her pant, until she felt herself convulse and choke out as an unexpected orgasm wracked her being. It wasn't as powerful as her first two, but it was enough for her to cling to him harder while her toes curled on the mattress.

In the instance right as she climaxed, he thrust forward slightly in a single, fluid stroke, breaking through the membrane inside of her.

Hisana wailed, plundered by the conflicting onset of pleasure and pain. Her husband, having bypassed her maidenhood, went still, holding her in both arms now on the futon while stroking her skinny back tenderly as she trembled and shook, her right leg hooked forcefully over his hip. He didn't move otherwise for the next couple of minutes, choosing to continue stroking her heaving back and kissing her disarrayed, sweaty ebony hair while she shuddered.

Even after she'd eventually quieted and started to relax, her climax dissipating, he didn't move, as if silently content to continue lying entangled with her—and inside of her, where she enveloped him tenaciously like a hot, wet clamp. She had to marvel at his brutal self-discipline.

Now that she'd recovered from her orgasm, Hisana became increasingly conscious of him embedded in her, not completely unlike his fingers, only bigger and far more visceral, their hips pressed together intimately, her diminutive but supple breasts nestled against his chest.

Obā-chan was wrong, Hisana realised. Right now, where they were joined together, her lover cradling the curve of her back, she _was_ an extension of Byakuya.

But he was just as much an extension of her too. At this moment, they were one, and if she closed her eyes, she wouldn't be able to tell where he ended and where she began.

He dipped his head then and kissed her neck, nuzzling her alabaster skin. She let him, almost dizzy from his ministrations and the number of releases she'd had. She was grateful for the last one he'd given her, since it had tided her over from enduring the pain solely by itself.

Hisana was an extension of him, and she knew she mattered regardless, at least to him. Was it important if she mattered to anyone else in Seireitei when she already mattered to the one person that, in turn, mattered most to her?

For she did not care about what the condescending and priggish aristocrats thought of her, not unless they affected her relationship with Byakuya or Byakuya himself. It was up to them if they wanted to reduce her to a mere extension of him in their perspective. Besides, it wasn't as if they were entirely wrong, and being an extension of him didn't feel like a reduction at all.

"Byakuya-sama," Hisana exhaled. He said nothing, but she knew he was listening. She went on, softly but unreservedly.

" _Please make love to me_."

His steely grey eyes darkened at her plea, almost to the shade of obsidian. Before he could respond, she kissed him boldly this time, her pinkened lips grazing his amorously, and then pulled back, peering up at him with a faint but ardent smile.

Byakuya moved then, so swiftly that she almost missed what was happening in the next few milliseconds.

He rolled her over to pin her beneath him, her curled leg sliding down from his hip so that her calf approached his muscled thigh instead. His motions caused the length of him to shift faintly inside her, and she gasped.

He began to peel his hips away from her, making her moan louder at how he dragged slowly out of her, her sodden passageway clinching onto him persistently, the movement of which induced staggering friction along the sensitised nerve endings perpetuating her inner walls. Her lover felt _huge_ inside of her, his already impressive size magnified by how petite she originally was and the fact that she was extremely tight from being a virgin.

When he'd retreated enough from her, he cradled both her svelte hips in his hands and lifted them to secure her pliant thighs around him, and then sunk himself back into her, this time with a tad more force than before.

Hisana was moaning steadily now, especially with the friction ramping up. If she'd thought Byakuya's fingers had been boggling enough, then this—making love—with him inside of her introduced a whole new level of scalding friction. He drove himself further into her now, even further than before, until he had fully seated himself in her.

Hisana's breathing had turned excessively disjointed and sloppy. He was now completely inside of her, while she was pinned underneath his bigger, stronger physique, all of her senses encompassed by his sleek, rangy body. He was enveloping her as she enveloped him, and she'd never felt anywhere this connected to another person before, both physically and emotionally.

He eventually withdrew again to thrust back into her, his dark eyes glittering, his irises nearly a midnight black from male desire. She'd never seen him like this before, particularly at how he regarded her in such a primitive and predatory fashion—and what a far cry from his usually detached mien that was. While the rest of his beautiful face was unchanging, his silence a stark contrast with her unbridled moans, the flat hungry gleam in his eyes told her everything.

This, too, she could tell, was what he'd wanted for a long time coming.

If she had the strength, Hisana would have cupped his face, wanting to capture the expression forever. But it was all she could do to try not to splinter at the exquisite friction of his potent thrusts rocking her slight form on the futon, the sides of his _juban_ cascading down either of her thighs, both of which were entwined around his waist, his palms searing into her fair skin.

She noticed then that Byakuya's eyes were narrowed, as if concentrating keenly on something. He was changing the angle slightly for every subsequent thrust for some reason, like he was testing for something. She was too overpowered by the strength behind his deep wet thrusts to ask. It was all she could do to hold onto him and moan, the decadence of being filled to the brim precipitating the rising pressure in her lower abdomen.

Hisana could feel the pressure soaring to a fever pitch, and she wondered through a drugged haze of lust if it was even biologically possible for her to come again.

Surely she could not. She didn't think a woman could come so many—

Hisana's head jerked up from the pillow, the _kanzashi_ toppling from her hair, and she emitted a blissful, high-pitched scream, arching into him. In his last thrust, the broad head of his erection had collided onto the magic spot he'd accessed with his fingers earlier, and the result was a rampage of white-hot pleasure, her tight little passage seizing onto his girth harder than ever. Stars flooded her vision and she writhed, keening into the column of his neck from the intensity.

Evidently, this was what Byakuya had been pursuing all along, since he stuck to the same angle—his next thrust struck that exact spot once more, and a delirious Hisana fell right off the edge, unable to withstand the stimulation much longer. Releasing his grip on her thighs, he drew closer to his wife and kissed her whilst she climaxed, his lips devouring her opened ones as she wailed wantonly into him.

It seemed even he was closer to the end of his ruthless self-control than he'd let on, for he buried into her a final time, one long-fingered hand braced on the linen beside her head, and stilled. Hisana felt a warmth spreading inside of her, and the realisation that her husband's seed was filling her up only amplified her orgasm, causing her to tremble more uncontrollably under him as her nether muscles convulsed and rippled around his shaft, milking him relentlessly.

Minutes later, long after their coupling had concluded, they continued kissing each other languorously, the male remaining inside her. Hisana, luxuriating in the afterglow of their lovemaking, felt a sudden lethargy dull her senses, making her unbearably sleepy. Her violet eyes, growing heavy, were lidded, and she redirected all of her dimmed senses towards the sublime scent that was Byakuya and the mintiness of his sculpted lips caressing hers.

She was half-asleep by the time he unhurriedly pulled out of her, resulting to her in a crippling sensation of being terribly empty, followed by the additional loss of his gratifying body heat as he rose from the futon.

Hisana was considering fighting her drowsiness to ask him to come back when she heard the sounds of water running in the bathroom before he reemerged. She gazed at him sleepily through lidded lashes on the futon, and watched as he knelt gracefully down by her side, then parted her slumped legs resting on the bedding before gently dabbing at the folds of her core between her thighs with a warm, damp cloth. She shivered.

Hisana saw it then, the sight of it shocking her awake: red splotches of blood on the white cotton of her _hadajuban_ under her, as well as faint traces of red on the inside of her pale thighs.

She was struck once again by the tremendous fact that she had gotten married and lost her virginity today.

"Byakuya-sama," Hisana called sluggishly. He glanced at her wordlessly, having deftly cleaned remnants of her blood off her inner thighs with the same warm wet cloth. It touched her immensely how he was still taking care of her post coitus.

"Come lie with me," she beseeched. "Please."

Their quarters were an uncharacteristic mess, her _shiromuku_ laid out on the floor in dazzling, pure white layers, coupled by the dark muted colors of his discarded _montsuki_ near their futon. Sitting up with some difficulty, she fumbled off her _hadajuban_ , leaving herself wholly nude, and draped the blood-stained slip of white cotton onto the other layers of her pure _shiromuku,_ aware that Byakuya was watching. The scarlet of her blood was jarring against the white, and impossible to miss.

A beat of silence passed, and then, as noiselessly as he always moved, he set aside the now-bloodied cloth atop her _hadajuban._ Without any further comment, he smoothly discarded his own plain _juban_ to the floor and joined his wife on the futon, drawing the thick comforter promptly over both of their naked bodies.

Hisana shut her eyes as he took her in his arms, pressing her flushed cheeks into the hard planes of his chest and feeling the solidness of his leanly muscled build against her soft curves. While they had slept together before, they had never once slept together nude, her porcelain skin coated in a sheen of prespiration. It was incredible how flawlessly their bodies slotted together under the sheets, as if they were made for the other.

Byakuya reached over her delicate shoulder to retrieve something, and she blinked as she spotted the plum blossom _kanzashi_ in his hand. It had fallen off of her hair, she recalled.

She closed her eyes, vaguely aware that he was placing the hairpin aside by the pillow.

It felt just like yesterday when he had given her the hairpin inside the wooden gift box. The hairpin had been the start of everything, from their past two months cohabiting together as a betrothed couple until her wedding day today.

But today marked another new beginning of their lives, a prelude of an infinite timeframe in the future far longer than two months. Yet regardless of how much time would pass, the memories from this day would remain.

And as with the _kanzashi_ , she would keep them with her for the rest of her life.

* * *

: _tbc:_

* * *

 **A/N:** I've written my share of smut scenes in the past, but this is the first time I've written about a woman losing her v-card, lol. Anyway, this concludes the Wedding two-shot! Thank you, lone reviewer. :)


	18. Chapter 18: The Celebration Dance

**Verse:** 'Half-Canon'.

* * *

One morning after breakfast, the Elder and one other member of the branch family under the Kuchiki House came to visit the Manor. They had made an unexpected request at the _genkan_ of the estate to seek an audience with Lady Kuchiki.

Hisana had been shocked. This would mark her first time speaking to the other members of the Kuchiki House alone without Byakuya present. He was away at the Sixth Division at the moment, as he usually was in the day, save for an exception he'd made the day before yesterday because of how ill she'd been.

She had just entered the tenth week of her pregnancy, and her nausea was worse than ever. She was vomiting persistently for half of the day each day, but her suffering the day before yesterday had been the worst so far. She'd awoken her husband at four in the morning from a violent bout of vomiting, and he'd stayed up to take care of her, one arm curled around her shoulders and his other hand rubbing her back whilst she heaved into the toilet bowl.

Eventually, Hisana had been so exhausted, the overwrought muscles in her abused abdomen unbearably sore, that she hadn't been able to remain upright, and Byakuya had carried her back to the futon. Unfortunately, she still had more in her belly to hurl, and a wooden bucket had been placed beside her futon for her to empty herself into, her husband supporting her to keep her fatigued body upright. Ordinarily, she would have been mortified, but she was way too far gone by then to care.

She hadn't been able to stop vomiting even as hours had passed, and Byakuya had ended up staying in the manor the entire day to remain by her side instead of heading for the Sixth Division. For once, she'd felt too sick to be guilty. The girl had barely been able to keep anything down save for congee, and she'd spent most of the entire day alternating between lying slumped on the futon or sitting up with Byakuya's help to throw up. The physician had been summoned again due to the severity of her condition, but after taking the time to examine her he had assured the couple that she was fine.

Apparently, excessive nausea, even to this degree, was considered normal for expectant women, especially in their first trimester. Hisana had been appalled.

Fortunately, she'd been a bit better the next day, her bouts of vomiting reduced. Nonetheless, her husband had stayed with her until the afternoon before departing for the Sixth Division. Today, she'd been even better, having finally slept past the customary time her husband rose from bed—half past five—without being awakened by her nausea. Breakfast had been carefully light: congee sprinkled with salmon _furikake_ and pickled spinach.

Her reprieve had been shattered, however, when she'd been given notice that one of the Kuchiki Elders and a member of the branch family wished to speak to her. She couldn't fathom what they wanted from her; for nearly nine months throughout her stay here, they had never once requested to speak to her alone. Seike had added that he could inform them that she was currently too unwell to see them, but she had demurred. It would have been impolite to turn them away, and besides, she was feeling much better this morning.

Which was why she currently sat in a room facing the two seated newcomers with Seike faithfully stationed by the closed _shōji_ door.

This Elder was the same man that had walked her down the shrine to give her away to Byakuya on her wedding day. His greyed hair was slicked back from his head as before, and he wore his trademark ceremonial white robe over a _shihakushō._ Seated in _seiza_ beside him was a tall, statuesque woman Hisana recognised as one of Byakuya's distant cousins, Kuchiki Nanami. She had long raven hair sleekly pinned up in a twist with a black-and-gold coral _tama kanzashi_ , and a pair of piercing slate grey eyes that were only slightly larger than Byakuya's. Dressed in an expensive pale blue kimono, her posture was unwaveringly perfect, her back ramrod straight and her hands resting primly on her lap.

"Please accept our deepest apologies, Hisana-sama," the Elder intoned, bowing his grey head. Beside him, Kuchiki Nanami followed suit. "We hope you have not disturbed you too greatly."

"It's all right," Hisana said reassuringly. "Please don't worry."

"Of course, we must also congratulate Hisana-sama on your pregnancy," the Elder continued. "We apologise for waiting this long to extend our congratulations directly to you."

"It's all right," she repeated again, not knowing what else to say. "Thank you very much regardless."

"Regarding our visit today…" The Elder straightened, looking straight in her eye. "I'm sure Hisana-sama has an idea as to why we have come."

Hisana frowned. "Not really," she said, concerned. "May I know what this is regarding…?"

She thought she saw something glacial flash in the Elder's eyes, almost like disapprobation, but it was gone before she could take a closer look.

"Ah, yes… Please pardon the misunderstanding on my part, Hisana-sama," he said. "As this is a common event among noble families, I took for granted that the Celebration Dance was well-established to everyone. I failed to take into consideration your origins, Hisana-sama. Please forgive my carelessness."

Hisana sucked in her breath inaudibly. She was no fool. The Elder's words had been a barbed insult disguised as an apology. While she'd always known that members of the Kuchiki House disapproved of her marriage to Byakuya, she'd never actually had to face their animosity in person until now.

She was only beginning to realise that her husband might have been protecting her all along.

"May I know what you mean by the Celebration Dance?" Hisana asked cautiously, deciding not to address the latter part of the Elder's statement. Seike had commented nothing thus far, his bespectacled gaze on the Elder.

"The Celebration Dance," the Elder revealed, "is an annual dance typically performed by the Lady of the Kuchiki House either every New Year's Eve or in the New Year. Before Hisana-sama joined our household, and after the former Lady of the House—Byakuya-sama's grandmother—passed away, Nanami has been performing the dance each year during the annual ceremony."

Kuchiki Nanami inclined her head in acknowledgement.

Hisana's heartbeat quickened. It was currently the first day of the fourth week in December, which meant the New Year was coming in roughly one more week.

"I must confess I did not expect Hisana-sama to be unaware of the dance this late into the year, since the ceremony is scheduled to be held at New Year's Eve this year," Nanami spoke offhandedly. She reminded Hisana distinctly of Byakuya, from the unhurried but weighted way she articulated her words. "I had thought Byakuya-sama would have notified Hisana-sama by now."

Seike took a step forward then.

"Byakuya-sama has kept quiet because of Hisana-sama's pregnancy," he rumbled. "For the sake of Hisana-sama's health, he has decided for Nanami-sama to continue with tradition this year."

"I see," the Elder answered smoothly, his silvery brows ratcheting up. "Of course, Hisana-sama's health should come first. Nanami can always hold the fort until the responsibilities of Lady of the House become less demanding for Hisana-sama."

Hisana flinched. Every word from the Elder was like a blade tinged with honey. She didn't miss the discreet accusation behind his otherwise tactful response.

But he wasn't wrong. It was only the first year that she'd married Byakuya, and she was already sidestepping the first significant duty assigned to her. It didn't help that the members of the Kuchiki House already saw her in a poor light because of her background. She could guess even without hearing for herself that they thought her an unscrupulous gold-digger.

And Hisana could not blame them altogether for their misconceptions. The circumstances of a street urchin who had not a penny to her name marrying into an obscenely wealthy family did appear very sketchy. She had everything to gain, and they had everything to lose. As with most noble families, it went without saying that the Kuchiki House guarded its lineage zealously, and she was a threat to that lineage. As far as they were concerned, she was dirty, filthy—a stain that marred the once-pristine family. They probably could not stand to even touch her tainted skin.

And she wasn't helping her cause by shirking her newfound responsibilities as Lady of the House. Doing so would not reflect well on her husband's choice to marry her either.

It was the thought that it would affect Byakuya that caused her to stiffen. The rest of the clan could think poorly of her all they wanted, but she would not let the man she loved suffer for her sake.

"The Celebration Dance," Hisana said rapidly, aware that they were all looking at her now. "I would like to perform it."

"Oh?" The Elder's eyes glinted. "But what of Hisana-sama's health? I was under the impression that Hisana-sama was feeling unwell."

"I'm feeling better today," Hisana informed him gently. "In any case, I wish to try my best regardless."

Kuchiki Nanami canted her head to the side.

"Please pardon my impudence, Hisana-sama," she interposed indifferently, "But I hope Hisana-sama understands that in regards to the Celebration Dance, trying your best would not suffice. It is a given to perform well. As it happens, other noble families will be in attendance for the ceremony, so the reputation of the Kuchiki House is at stake."

Hisana's could feel her palms sweating. There would be other noble families attending? The gravity of what she was agreeing to struck her in full force then.

"Of course, if it is too much for Hisana-sama…" The Elder gave her an insincerely benign smile. "We understand. After all, the dance requires exceptional grace instilled in aristocracy at birth. We are at blame to give Hisana-sama such a heavy burden—"

"No, it's all right," Hisana interrupted him tightly. She knew there was no point reacting to his subtle mockery, so she went on simply, "I would like to perform the dance. I won't change my mind."

Seike dipped his snow-white head.

"We will have to inform Byakuya-sama of your decision first, Hisana-sama," he said throatily. "As of now, he does not intend for Hisana-sama to perform the dance."

"Of course," the Elder assented graciously. "If that is Byakuya-sama's decree, then so be it. Nanami will continue with tradition. I'm sure Hisana-sama can perform some other year. She will have an excellent opportunity to showcase herself then."

 _Or make a fool of herself,_ Hisana thought, knowing the Elder had no faith whatsoever in her performance of the Celebration Dance. As much as he wanted to humiliate her, he would not allow it at the expense of the reputation of the family, especially with other aristocrats present. He didn't want to just humiliate Hisana either. He wanted to teach her husband a lesson, to prove to the latter that he'd made a terrible mistake in marrying his chosen bride.

If Hisana being made a fool onstage because of her supposed inability to dance wasn't an option, the best the Elder could do was come here to snub her because she would not be performing.

Well, she would make him sorry for coming to gloat.

"No," Hisana said firmly. "I will be performing. I'll persuade Byakuya-sama to change his mind. Therefore, please take it from now on that I will be performing."

Nanami's slate grey eyes narrowed.

"If Byakuya-sama has made up his mind—" she begun.

"I will persuade him," Hisana repeated. "Please do not worry, Nanami-san."

"I'm not sure you understand, Hisana-sama," the Elder intervened tersely. "Byakuya-sama is the Head of the House. His word is law. It would be insolent of us to dare to disobey—"

"I promise I will bear all consequences of my decision myself," Hisana asserted. In the corner of her eye, she thought she saw the faintest of a smile on Seike's wrinkled visage. "Please leave it to me."

The only sign of the Elder's irritation was a muscle jumping in his jaw. Hisana knew he would never allow her to dance, not if she would embarrass the Kuchiki House through the high possibility of her abysmal performance.

"Hisana-sama, please remember that you are carrying Byakuya-sama's child," he said. "You are carrying the heir to our family. We cannot risk anything happening to you whilst you are performing. That is why Byakuya-sama made his decision. As of now, Hisana-sama should take the time to rest until the child is born. That is certainly what Byakuya-sama wishes."

The heir. Hisana felt disoriented. She had never thought her own baby as the heir to the Kuchiki House. The thought of raising her baby amidst the abhorrent politics in the Kuchiki household made her sick. She felt so terribly protective of the life in her womb that she almost wished she never had to deliver her baby, not if she had to give him up to the likes and whims of the manipulative Elders. Who knew if the Elders actually cared for her baby when his mother was someone they loathed?

"I will take care of myself, I promise," Hisana said at last. "Nonetheless, I have made up my mind. I will speak to Byakuya-sama tonight."

There was a heavy pause.

"Well, since we are already here," Nanami prompted abruptly, "may I show you the dance first, Hisana-sama?"

Hisana started. "Show me the dance?"

"Yes. If you permit, I can perform the choreography here as a demonstration," Nanami replied, a silent challenge sparking in her steely gaze. "Just so Hisana-sama can get the general idea."

Hisana hesitated, then nodded.

"If it's not too much trouble, I would love to see it," she confessed.

"It's no trouble at all." Nanami rose from her seated position in a fluid, swift motion not unlike the way Byakuya himself moved. She shifted into the center of the voluminous space purposely designated between Hisana and the Elder.

"Would you like me to summon the musician, Nanami-sama?" Seike inquired, taking a step forward.

"It's fine," she said dismissively. "This is just a quick demonstration for Hisana-sama so that she may grasp the choreography. Shall I begin?"

"Yes," Hisana said encouragingly. "Please go ahead as you see fit."

With that said, Nanami reached into the front of her kimono and retrieved a small copper folding fan. She set the folded fan neatly in front of her, then dropped herself gracefully into _seiza_ before the fan, and then outstretched both hands on the tatami floor, her raven head bowed.

Then Nanami picked up the fan. She straightened languorously and raised herself up so that she was now only kneeling on the floor, and twirled the fan nimbly in her hands. She continued twirling the fan in a relentless circular rhythm as she ascended further to her feet, never once faltering. Her left hand reached towards her right, the latter daintily holding her fan, and clasped the long kimono sleeve of her right arm, pinching a sheaf of the fabric precisely back from her wrist. She oscillated her right wrist in a gliding sweep left and right, swishing her fan slowly but elegantly in the air.

Swishing the fan towards herself, she grasped onto it with her left hand now as well, and pulled open the folded fan effortlessly, the copper sheen of the extended screen startlingly resplendent in the room. She released her right hand and held the guard of the opened fan briefly with her left, tilting the fan so that it was facing downwards while gently cocking up her right hand in an artistically laden pose.

A second later, Nanami slid her right hand back onto the other side of the fan and lifted it up with both hands so that the leaf of the fan was turned away from the floor and back towards the ceiling. Hisana noticed that she held either guard of the fan in between her lithe fingers, palms out. Still carrying the fan in that position, she bent her knees slightly and ever-so faintly swirled both arms to move the uprighted copper fan in a charmingly rhythmic fashion.

Gradually, Nanami transferred the fan fully into her right hand and then rotated it around mid-air so that the copper leaf of the fan glided delicately from the direction of the floor back towards the ceiling in a single continuous gesture of her hand. Swiping the fan abruptly closed, she held out the line of the folded fan and wheeled around gracefully, her movements poised, tasteful and harmonious even without any background music.

Nanami came to a pause with her back to Hisana, one supple arm extended dignifiedly to hold out the folded length of the fan. She remained in that pose for another second, and then glissaded sure-footedly back around, now holding out the folded fan with both hands. She lowered herself briefly with her knees bent, and rose again, before repeating the same ministrations as she slanted her waist slightly sideways, her wrists pitched along the angle of her waist.

Sweeping the fan open once more, Nanami spun around smoothly from Hisana, and brought the extended fan with her right hand behind her so that it faced the audience, the leaf of the fan spread out handsomely under the rear of her _obi._

Withdrawing her right hand from the back of her hips, she brought the fan back towards herself, elevating it highly with both hands so that the leaf of the fan was directed towards her face. Still positioning the fan like that, she pivoted around lissomely, and flicked the fan entirely back into her right hand, her left deftly snagging a segment of her right kimono sleeve and gathering it immaculately away from her right wrist—a dazed Hisana noted it was the exact same length and width of silk that she'd gathered in a similar move earlier.

With her right hand, Nanami lazily fanned the fan, skimming its copper leaf back and forth extensively through the air, even dipping the fan to sway it expertly under her hand. As the oscillating fan soared upwards, she twisted her wrist dexterously around, and flitted the leaf to make it flutter softly whilst sweeping the accessory horizontally across the front of her, the dark burnished gleam of the screen twinkling at intervals within her manipulative hand.

Before long, after several more tricks Nanami performed by twirling her wrist skilfully to rapidly revolve the fan in an admittedly mesmerising routine, she concluded the dance with a final regal flourish of her hand, and then sunk back to her knees into _seiza_ to place the folded fan onto the floor before her.

Silence fell. For a long moment, no one uttered a word.

"Hisana-sama," the Elder broke in silkily at last. "Are you confident you will be able to pull this off?"

* * *

The first thing a drained Hisana did after the visitors left was throw up. A worried Akari had hovered over her as she gagged into the toilet, after which the latter had weakly requested to rest in bed.

Hisana was bone-tired. It had been emotionally exhausting to interact with two people whom she knew hated her. It wasn't just their thinly veiled hostility that drained her, but the pressing need to maintain a courteous façade. She didn't see the point of it, because the visitors obviously knew that she knew they detested her. This was one element of aristocracy she couldn't tolerate—how feigned and superficial everything was, from their fake smiles to their backhanded flattery down to their unerringly polite mannerisms.

And that was what made Byakuya so wonderfully unique to Hisana. Despite how refined he appeared and the finesse with which he carried himself, he rarely smiled, rarely paid a compliment to anyone, and never once wasted his time making pointless conversation for the sake of shallow pleasantries. And for all of his reticence, that was what struck her husband as sincere: he allowed others to judge him through his actions, and not through his words.

It was one of the many contradictions about him—someone that truly embodied his noble birth, but was yet so different—that drew her so deeply towards him.

And it was him Hisana thought of as she crawled onto the futon. Even though it had only been a few hours since he'd left for the Sixth Division, she missed him fiercely. It was selfish of her to be so needy, she knew, considering he'd stayed in the manor so much the past two days to take care of her, but she always felt bereft and miserable whenever they parted ways. Even months into their marriage, her desire for him had only intensified instead of abating. And especially at present, after what had happened, she craved his contact more than ever.

For now, however, Hisana would find solace in the comfort of her sheets. Since the start of her pregnancy, she'd already suffered from excessive fatigue, and the visitors today had made it far worse than usual. Deciding she'd dwell on the Celebration Dance later, she lay down, closing her eyes wearily. It wasn't as if she could do anything about it right now until she had received permission from the Head of the House.

She didn't know how long she slept for, but when her violet eyes fluttered open drowsily again, the room was considerably dimmer, cast under the tangerine sheen of the lit floor lamps by the corners of the _shōji_ doors. The sun had set, she realised, since the lamps in the manor were usually only turned on in the evening.

Hisana lay there under her comforter, disoriented for the first couple of seconds as she always was whenever she awakened from slumber. She turned her head woozily on the pillow, and despite her lethargy, her heart instantly rioted within her chest at the sight of her husband sitting on the _zabuton_ by her bedside, dressed in his _shihakushō_ and windflower silk scarf, but without his Captain's haori.

Hisana sat up at once, so rapidly that her head spun for a fraction. Time had done little to diminish her feelings; every evening, upon his return, her pulse would race with the familiar rush of euphoria.

"Byakuya-sama," she began in a fluster. "You're home. How—how long has it been since you returned?"

Byakuya studied her indecipherably for a laden beat.

"An hour," he answered briefly.

It wasn't uncommon for him to return home while she was asleep. Hisana always made sure that she returned to the manor from the Rukon District before her husband returned home, more out of respect than anything else, but she was generally so haggard from walking such lengthy distances that she'd end up collapsing onto the futon. She'd frequently awaken to see him sitting by her bedside, watching her. Sometimes he would be going through paperwork beside her futon—he had an additional study table outside of his study in their living quarters, which he almost never used when she was awake—but more often than not, he would simply gaze at the slumbering woman in his bed.

It unnerved and embarrassed Hisana to know he watched her sleep sometimes. It was impossible to guess what went through that patrician raven head of his whenever he did that. Did he like what he saw? Was he indifferent? Was he bored? She doubted Byakuya was ever bored. She knew he liked peace and quiet, just as she did, and one never knew what he might be thinking even when he appeared passive.

No, he wasn't bored. No moment in his life was truly idle to him. Hisana knew that much.

"I'm sorry," she apologised fervently. "Have you had dinner yet? Are you starving?"

He arched a dark brow.

"I'm fine," he said mildly.

It upset and worried her that, based on her past experience, he'd never have dinner without her. He needed food more than she did because of his abundant spiritual capacity, not to mention he'd also returned from a long day of activity at the Division. Worst of all, her lover would never wake her while she was asleep, so that meant a long time could have lapsed until they both had dinner together. Hisana could do with a delayed meal since she didn't require fuel as much as he did, but it was obvious he didn't agree with that assessment.

It had been worse after she'd gotten pregnant, when the physician had advised that she gain weight. Hisana had been chagrined; she knew Byakuya already took issue with her low weight since she'd moved into the manor, which was why he was absolutely uncompromising when it came to ensuring that she ate.

But she was just as uncompromising about Byakuya's meals. The idea of him starving was unacceptable in her books.

Hisana stilled when he reached out a slender gloved hand then and caressed the side of her heart-shaped face, his calloused thumb gently tracing her milky skin. His hand was incredibly warm to the touch, and she leaned instinctively into him. Raising her own hand, she tenderly cupped the back of his with her distinctively smaller one. It was times like this where she wished her hand was bigger so she could envelope all of him.

"Byakuya-sama," Hisana whispered. "I want to tell you something."

She wouldn't be surprised if Byakuya already knew what she was about to say, since she was certain Seike reported the happenings each day to his master upon his return to the estate.

If her husband knew, he showed no indication. Instead, he twisted his wrist adroitly from under her and took her hand in his, his bigger one encompassing hers easily. She stared down at their entwined hands, steeling herself to continue.

"One of the Kuchiki Elders informed me of the Celebration Dance today," Hisana went on. "I told him I planned to perform."

As expected, he gazed at her without any hints of surprise, but said nothing.

Before she could continue, there was a soft, reserved knock on the _shōji_ door.

"Byakuya-sama, Hisana-sama." Seike's hoarse voice resounded from the other side of the screen. "Dinner is ready. May I bring it in?"

Hisana started. It wasn't often that they had their meals in their living quarters.

Byakuya glanced at the door.

"Come in." His deep baritone voice was unruffled, almost detached.

The screen slid open, and Seike stood before them, carrying a rectangular antique tea table in his withered hands. He entered the room with his white head bent, and carefully set the table down beside Byakuya's study desk. Behind him, two servants donning aprons entered as well, each of them carrying a tray stacked with dishes of sweet-smelling food. They approached the two tables and set a food tray on each of them. Akari entered last, carrying a _zaisu_ and placing it before the table Seike had brought in.

"Please sit here, Hisana-sama," she said, bowing.

"Thank you," Hisana said softly, rising from the futon and smoothing down her comforter before padding over towards the table.

A silent Byakuya caught Akari's eye, and the handmaid abruptly hastened towards the lacquered wooden stand in the corner of the room, where Hisana's pink haori was draped. She'd helped Hisana remove the garment earlier when the latter had gone to bed.

Gathering the haori from the stand, Akari approached Hisana.

"Please allow me, Hisana-sama," she said. "It's very chilly this evening."

"Oh… Thank you so much," Hisana managed, feeling slightly abashed.

Without preamble, the handmaid placed the pink silk securely over her petite shoulders, and then retreated obsequiously with a bow once she was done.

The other three servants bowed as well before they all withdrew from the room, Seike shutting the screen door lastly behind him.

Hisana sat, peering down at her tray. There were bowls of red pickled ginger, miso soup, charcoal grilled Pacific saury, tofu topped with bonito flakes and soy sauce, _dashi_ -marinated kale, and rice. A porcelain cup of steaming barley tea was served with the meal. A quick glimpse at Byakuya's tray revealed an exact replica of hers.

"Byakuya-sama," Hisana began, wanting to resume the topic earlier, but her husband interrupted her.

"Eat, Hisana," he said evenly. "We'll discuss that later."

She nodded mutely, knowing there was no use in arguing. Picking up her bamboo chopsticks, she gingerly plucked a piece of kale into her rice bowl, willing herself to focus on her meal. Admittedly, she was hungry, her appetite boosted by her pregnancy, and she tried her best to indulge in the delicious dishes without gobbling unseemly. Beside her, her husband ate with precise grace as usual, his movements unhurried and leisured.

For the next couple of minutes, they dined in silence.

Once most of her bowls on her tray were empty—an accomplishment, and a sign of how much her pregnancy had affected her since she was typically able to only finish half her meal—Hisana set her chopsticks neatly down on her rice bowl, and folded her hands on her lap.

She waited, feeling her anxiety return now that she was no longer preoccupied with her dinner, and peeked timidly sideways as Byakuya sipped his tea.

Then, at long last, after what felt like a century, he lowered his teacup onto his tray, and regarded her impassively.

"There is no need for you to perform this year," he said plainly. "Neither do I want you to."

Hisana's hands tightened over the cotton of her _hadajuban_ on her lap.

"I believe that with enough practice, I am able to do it, Byakuya-sama," she implored. "I will try my best—"

"It is not your ability or skill that concerns me," he said sharply. "It is your health."

Hisana inhaled, her muscles relaxing despite herself. She was dizzyingly relieved that it wasn't because of his lack of faith in her ability that he was putting his foot down. After the Elder's mockery and Nanami's stunning performance, her self-esteem had shriveled tremendously, and for an irrational moment she had feared that the man she loved shared the same sentiment as the members in his family.

And Hisana hated herself for having ever doubted him.

"I'm quite healthy, Byakuya-sama," she asserted earnestly. "The physician said my nausea was considered normal, after all."

He merely continued looking at her, his visage unfathomable.

She could understand his protectiveness. The physician had diagnosed her before with anemia—hence she had to take iron supplements every morning with breakfast—and hypotension, and a couple of other complicated terms she didn't know what to make of, though she could tell they meant something to her husband.

But she didn't feel any of those terms mattered. Hisana knew she wasn't the healthiest individual out there, what with her frequent dizzy spells and how easily she tended to succumb to illnesses, but she'd always powered through all of those ailments anyway.

Back in the Rukon District, she hadn't taken any of those iron supplements, and she'd been fine, hadn't she?

Well, she hadn't really been fine, but she'd still been standing and walking, and that was enough.

"My nausea has been a little better these two days," Hisana ploughed on. "As long as I don't feel too nauseous, I'm sure I can perform. Please, allow me, Byakuya-sama—"

"No."

Hisana reeled, aghast. Byakuya had never actually denied any of her requests before. He would settle for a compromise at the very least.

"Byakuya-sama—"

"Not this year," he interrupted calmly, noting her stricken expression. "Not for now."

Hisana drew in an unsteady breath, then turned herself around on the _zaisu_ so that she was facing him.

She knelt down, dropping her head subserviently to perform _dogeza_ , her small hands braced on the floor.

"Hisana." Byakuya's deep voice was razor-sharp now.

"I want to do this, Byakuya-sama," she said emphatically, squeezing her eyes shut. "It would reflect poorly on you if I chose to forsake the performance, and I just can't stand knowing that. I know that the Elders haven't been happy about… about us in the first place. I want to make things right, even if this is all I can do. That's why it means everything to me, Byakuya-sama, that I perform the Celebration Dance this year."

There was a short, suffocating pause.

And then she heard a rustle of fabric as he knelt before her. He cupped her chin and slowly lifted it, bringing her almost teary face up to his.

Very lightly, his minty lips brushed hers, kissing her in a wrenchingly gentle and probing manner. Before a surprised Hisana could even reciprocate, however, he released her, and spoke.

"Sit up, Hisana."

Numbly, she obeyed, straightening back up into a _seiza_ position, her cramped arms moving from the floor and back to her lap.

Summoning all her courage, Hisana looked up diffidently to meet dark slate grey eyes, her heart thundering frantically in her ribs as she awaited his verdict. Just as she thought it would splinter from the pressure, he finally spoke again.

"If the physician deems you fit to perform, you may proceed," he said neutrally. "If not—" His grey eyes cooled. "Then my decision is final."

Despite the latter part of his statement, Hisana's large eyes lit up, and she broke into an elated smile, feeling a huge bubble of hope swell within her.

"Thank you, Byakuya-sama," she whispered softly. "Thank you very much."

* * *

The physician, summoned later that night, had deemed Hisana able to perform, so long as she did not exert herself whenever she was feeling unwell.

Needless to say, she had been over the moon. Her husband's cryptic expression had been less easy to gauge, but she could guess that he wasn't anywhere as ecstatic as she was.

But it was fine. She would prove that his concerns about her health were misplaced. If the physician had given the go-ahead, then surely there was nothing to be concerned about? From Byakuya's unrevealing silence, she half-feared he'd changed his mind in spite of the physician's verdict, but the next morning, Akari had handed Hisana the dance manual containing the choreography of the Celebration Dance.

Perusing it, Hisana had noted that it reflected almost exactly what Nanami had performed. Nanami's dance had been rather modest and controlled, she thought, which was expected, since here in Japan, the quintessential geisha flaunted her ability, while the perfect wife had to be reserved. Nanami was part of a wealthy family and the wife of another member in the branch family, and there was a vast difference between the dances performed by women who had to support themselves financially without a husband and women who did it for frivolous entertainment.

Hisana knew this much, because of one circumstance she hadn't told anyone: Obā-chan, before her death in the Living World, had been a geisha during her youth.

Like Hisana, Obā-chan's memories of her past life were fragmented and vague, but oddly enough, she had clearer memories of her youth than anything after that, especially the details surrounding the cause of her death. Back when Hisana had lived in Hanging Dog, Obā-chan would regale her with stories during her time as a geisha in the Living World and had even taught her some choreography.

Of course, Obā-chan had been far too old to demonstrate it, but she'd laughingly guided Hisana through the steps one rainy day in the hut, the latter whom had held a leaf as a makeshift fan. It hadn't been for any particular purpose other than Hisana's curiosity about the world of geisha, and she'd ended up learning much more than she'd ever expected to without being one herself.

She'd recognised, for example, that Nanami's dance, as reflected in the dance manual, was a summarised version of the _Kyō no Shiki,_ one of the main four dances performed by geisha. Hisana had asked Akari if there were any additional choreography available in the estate for her to work on, to which the confused handmaid had shook her head.

Hisana had known then that she would have to base her performance off her memory of what Obā-chan had taught her.

The week flew by in a blur. Hisana practised the dance everyday on her own, deciding with some regret to forego all trips to the Rukon District until the day of the performance. She'd realised that it was easier to manage her morning sickness, which usually took place in the day, by reducing her water intake. She didn't think the physician would approve of her drinking a lot less water in the day, but by the time evening rolled around and her husband returned, she was back to hydrating herself normally again, so she was certain there was nothing to worry about. Neither would she dare to attempt drinking less under her husband's watchful eye.

But it wasn't difficult to empty her cups of water—Akari would place the cup on a tray on the _chabudai_ in the hall where she rehearsed—into potted plants when no one was looking in the afternoon. Now that she was drinking less, her nausea had dwindled, allowing her to spend her mornings and afternoons rehearsing and perusing the manual studiously. She'd then asked Akari for the time limit she was given to perform the dance during the ceremony, and her mystified handmaid had politely said that there wasn't a definite one.

Once, Nanami had visited the manor so that she could watch Hisana rehearse, but that had been one of the days where Hisana's nausea had been out of control despite her reduced water intake, and she'd been unable to rehearse or speak to Nanami. Hisana was sure that the other woman had been terribly disappointed in her, if not already more so. Such sentiments would definitely be reported back to the Kuchiki Elders.

But as much she'd wanted to invite Nanami back the next day, she didn't think she could stomach any more stress.

And then, as the days passed, the morning of her performance finally arrived.

It reminded her of her wedding, what with her handmaidens swarming all around her to do her makeup and hair, and to help her into her kimono. The biggest difference was that this time, her husband was seated in the room with them, watching the proceedings quietly.

Hisana could feel the nerves and tension radiating from the handmaidens at knowing that the Head of the House was present in the room. They had always been attentive and respective to their mistress, including when they'd helped her prepare for the wedding, but Byakuya's current presence intimidated them, and consequently they were even more careful and gentle with Hisana today.

Hisana was just as self-conscious. She couldn't muster the courage to look up at her lover, who was seated noiselessly by his study desk, having remained silent thus far. She didn't want him to see the pallor in her face. She couldn't afford for him to change his mind and inform her that Nanami was taking her place after all.

The kimono was a striking dark red, with pink cherry blossom petals adorning the scarlet silk in arresting floral patterns. Rose pink and pale honey streams ran down the flowing sleeves of the ensemble, and the train of her equally scarlet _uchikake_ pooled on the floor behind her. Her _obi_ was an orange-gold, and was tied securely around her waist, her handmaidens fastening the _obijime_ cautiously around her waist and asking her worriedly if it felt too tight. It was extremely faint, but now that she was eleven weeks in, she was beginning to show just the slightest underneath her clothes.

Hisana had assured them that the fitting was fine.

Once she had finished putting on her kimono and they had pinned a _bira kanzashi_ —it comprised of a spherical yellow marigold design with cascading amber tassels at the end—to her ebony hair, the servants' tasks were complete. They darted their eyes suddenly towards where Byakuya sat, and Hisana, following their gaze, realised with a jolt that he had risen to his feet and was approaching them sedately, the hem of his white ceremonial robe fluttering behind him.

He cast a careless glance at the handmaidens. "You may all go."

Bowing in unison, the group of girls backtracked from the living quarters, Akari holding the _shōji_ door open to let her peers through before shutting it with a final bow at the couple.

Hisana's heart was pounding, her fair skin sweating under the layers of her lavish kimono. She peeked up shyly at Byakuya, who had stopped directly before her, his height effortlessly towering over her slim form.

Ever-so casually, he inclined his raven head towards hers, and she froze, knowing he was about to kiss her. There was nothing she wanted more than to kiss him herself—to drink every inch of him in, from the cool mintiness of those pale sensuous lips down to that smothering passion she knew existed within him.

But the memory of her vomiting bout just half an hour ago stopped her. Byakuya would know; after all, he'd been the one rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles and brushing away strands of her hair as she heaved into the toilet. Surely he didn't plan to kiss her after she'd just thrown up? Other than a quick rinse to her mouth, she hadn't had the time to thoroughly clean herself.

"Byakuya-sama…" Hisana flinched, turning her face away. "I just—I was sick just now…"

In response, he captured her chin calmly with his long slender fingers and gently brought her face back to his.

And then he kissed her.

When he kissed her like that, it was hard to think of the bile he might be tasting on her tongue from her morning sickness. It was hard to think at all, save for the burst of starlight dazzling her senses and the heat of him searing into her. And if he did taste anything unpleasant, he didn't seem to care or even find it so, judging by how unapologetically he penetrated the cavern of her mouth with his sleek, hot tongue, and claimed every inch of her.

When the kiss eventually ended, Hisana was breathless, her violet eyes glazed with fervour and a flush suffusing her initially pale complexion, little petal lips swollen. His slate grey eyes darkened as he took in the state of her, and she marveled at the uncharacteristic emotion in his angular profile. It wasn't like how he looked when they made love—visceral, hungry, and predatory, like he wanted to devour her alive. Now, the expression in his intent grey eyes was soft, almost tender, and it staggered her.

What she did not expect was what Byakuya said next, so very quietly in that velvety baritone murmur.

"Thank you."

* * *

She sat in _seiza_ on the platform, head bowed, her folded fan placed before her. A _byōbu_ painted with illustrations of _bonsai_ trees was spread out in front of her, obscuring herself from the audience.

She was currently seated inside a golden pavilion interlinked by a passageway to the Kuchiki Manor within the estate, though the location of the pavilion was closer to the residence of the branch family. For decades, the performance of the Celebration Dance had taken place in this very pavilion. The roof was made of glorious gold-painted clay tiles and the eaves extended majestically beyond the walls of the lush infrastructure. Fusuma panels were set up in the background of the stage behind her, the ornate paper screens illustrated by willowy outlines of bamboo trees.

She could hear _shamisen_ playing from skilled musicians hidden behind the fusuma panels at the back of the stage, the strings of said instruments striking a resonant and chilling chord through the air and causing goosebumps to erupt on her flesh.

Hisana remained in her position as the panels of the _byōbu_ in front of her were tucked together away from her, revealing two stage maidens dressed in immaculate but muted kimonos, both of whom had entered the front of the stage. They promptly folded the _byōbu_ to one side with trained efficiency, and then proceeded to retreat from the stage in tandem, their backs bowed in a curtsy.

Then, in rhythm to the swelling musical chords, Hisana began to rise from her _seiza_ position, both hands picking up the folded fan, and she angled her head upwards for the first time onstage.

A sea of heads greeted her vision in the open space of the Kuchiki grounds. She recognised several of them immediately: the row of Elders, their wizened features carefully bland with suppressed disdain, Kuchiki Nanami's, cold, and even the scornful and contemptuous emerald eyes belonging to Kasumiōji Itsumi, as well as the loftiness etched on the ravishing catlike features of her mother, the Head of the Kasumiōji Clan. Both of their haughty blonde heads were extremely distinguishable in the audience.

But none of them mattered anywhere as much as the raven-haired male seated at the center of the front row in the audience, nearest to where she was. Out of everyone in this audience, she danced only for him.

Hisana gazed into those steady, tranquil slate grey eyes, allowing her husband to anchor her amidst her inner turmoil as he always did. By looking at him, all the others swiftly fell away from her vision, as if she was alone in a room with only her husband.

 _Please watch me, Byakuya-sama._

Mimicking Nanami's choreography, she ascended into a kneel on the stage, and swirled the fan cleverly in her hands. She continued swirling it in smooth, cadent spirals, and got to her feet until she was standing with her knees bent. Her left hand reached towards the other hand holding her fan, and obtained the long scarlet kimono sleeve of her right arm, pinching a portion of the fabric back from her wrist. She pendulated her right wrist to and fro horizontally, swishing her fan deliberately in the air.

There was already a faint difference between her choreography and Nanami's up to now. She hadn't yet risen fully as Nanami had done, choosing to keep her knees slightly bent while her back remained straight. She could sense a stir in the audience at the unexpected change, despite how negligible it was.

Hisana was certain that for all the past decades in the Kuchiki estate, Nanami had never once deviated from the established choreography. The audience would have memorised every step of her performance by now, which made any deviation today extremely conspicuous.

Still standing with her knees slightly bent, Hisana brought the fan back to herself and let go of her kimono sleeve to seize the other side of the fan, and unhesitatingly slid it open. The screen of the fan was a bright gold embellished by roseate cherry blossoms.

Releasing her left hand from the fan to rest her palm daintily on her hip, she batted the fan downwards with her right hand for a brief movement before bringing it up to fan herself teasingly. With her knees still bent faintly towards her right, she swept her fan closer towards herself and then, in a sleek, polished stroke, flipped it away again.

Hisana swerved her knees fluidly to the opposite side so that they were now bent the other way, and arced the fan accordingly to her left in a sweeping, circular motion towards the front of her chest. She continued rotating the fan down south so that it did an entire loop back towards her right, and then held the protracted aureate screen up with her right hand.

As she held it up, the girl maintained her left hand pointedly on her left hip, and remained in that pose: a flipped mirror image of the stance Nanami performed. Hisana remembered Nanami's stance vividly.

 _She held the guard of the opened fan briefly with her left, tilting the fan so that it was facing downwards while gently cocking up her right hand in an artistically laden pose._

An audible murmur rose from the crowd. It was obvious and known to many that Hisana did not have access to any choreography other that what was given to her. Yet the once direct transition from opening the fan into this stance had clearly also been altered, having been stretched out longer.

Hisana was satisfied. Now, this stance was a statement, and less methodical. It carried significance.

Gradually, she lowered the fan and extended it out so that the flat edge of it was facing the audience. Simultaneously, she raised her left hand from her hip and brought up her arm, her fingers curled over the hem of her flowing crimson sleeve as if to show the lengthened silk off. She swept her sleeved left arm further towards her outstretched fan and captured the left side of its guard, her right hand releasing it at the same time.

Now clasping one side of the guard of the fan, Hisana swung the crescent fan towards her left in tempo with the sonorous _twang_ of a background chord, and then veered the fan gracefully back to her right. She repeated this a few more times, then, as the paper fan sailed to her right side once again, she caught its other guard with her right hand, tipping the fan towards herself with both hands so that the its leaf was directed at her face.

She canted it higher until the leaf pointed away from her face and at the ceiling, and for a laden heartbeat, maintained that position of holding the golden fan up with her hands, either guard of the fan in between her thin delicate fingers, palms out. Like Nanami had done, she bent her knees and lightly swirled both arms to revolve the uprighted gold fan in circles. The music soared as the unseen musicians aptly strummed the strings of the _shamisen_ with increasing velocity.

Following Nanami's choreography, she then transferred the fan into her right hand, but subsequently rotated it around mid-air in the opposite direction Nanami had undertaken so that the aureate leaf of the fan glided delicately from the direction of the ceiling back towards the floor in a single continuous gesture of her hand. As it arched downwards, she braced the leaf against her bent knee so that it drew closed, then lifted up the fan again.

Instead of keeping it completely folded like Nanami had done, however, Hisana drew it open a few teasing notches so that only three of its ribs were exposed, hints of the cherry blossoms on its screen glimmering through. As she did so, a sweet smile graced her lips, casting herself in an almost coy, playful light. She swiped up the fan and elevated what little of the paper screen was extended across her face, hiding half of her elfin features coquettishly behind the golden leaf. Only one violet eye was exposed, her thick dark lashes lidded in mock demureness across her cheekbones.

By now, the silence from the audience was thick with tension, their attention utterly captivated by her performance.

If a typical geisha was meant to flaunt, and a wife to be modest, then Kuchiki Hisana would walk the precarious line in between, and _teas_ e.

She twirled the fan away from her in a circular gesticulation to hold it out towards the audience, the leaf of the half-folded fan aimed at them. Still holding out the line of the partially folded fan in that unwavering stance, she pivoted herself around in a singular liquid motion that brought her back towards the audience in a second.

Hisana could feel dizziness closing in on her senses, but she ignored it. She always felt dizzy practising this move, and she'd learnt to ignore it. She knew it would usually go away in a little while.

She lowered herself momentarily by kneeling a little, and rose again, before reproducing the same maneuver as she leaned her waist slightly sideways, her wrist holding the fan aligned along the slope of her waist. Her other free hand—her left—reached for the fan as well and smoothly slid the triangular slip of the partially folded fan completely open.

Languidly, she sank fully to her knees on the stage, her feet tucked under her in _seiza_ , and pressed the palm of her left hand to her bosom, concealing her tiny fist under the sheaf of her long burgundy kimono sleeve. With her right, she gently swayed her fan back and forth by her side, as if fanning an invisible object at her feet.

As Hisana automatically swayed the fan away from the audience after a few seconds, she turned herself accordingly, rising graciously to her feet in that leisurely waltzed turn. With her risen back now to the audience, she continued bringing the fan in a rotation towards her right until her arm was twisted behind her at the audience.

She spread out the open fan on her back as Nanami had done, flaunting the spanned aureate surface of the crescent paper screen under the rear of her orange-golden _obi._

A moment later, Hisana pulled her arm away from below her _obi_ and held the now fully spread screen coyly over her visage as she swiveled back around to face the audience. Her left hand readily amassed a fragment of her right kimono sleeve and extracted the vermillion silk from her right wrist.

With her right, she serenely fanned her porcelain cheeks, coasting the amber leaf side to side extensively through the air, and then dropped the fan downwards to brandish it under her palm in mimicry of Nanami's choreography. However, unlike the other woman, she shimmied the leaf to make it flutter softly whilst sweeping the fan _vertically_ skyward along the length of her torso, the splendid chrome gleam of the screen twinkling in intervals at her gimmicks.

Once the fan had reached the top with her arm raised to the ceiling, she spun her wrist around and flicked the golden screen from the back to the front repeatedly, her other hand still daintily ensnaring her sleeve.

Then she stopped, and slanted the fan so that it obscured her face entirely again. At a moderate but uniform pace, she began to sink back to her knees, and as she did so, deliberately gathered the fan closed rib by rib, exposing more of her heart-shaped face behind the ornamented screen in the process, doe eyes downcast, the corner of her pink lips tipped faintly upwards. The chords of the _shamisen_ had grown softer, the stage perpetuated by the tamed, mellifluous harmonies of the strings being tenderly plucked now.

Hisana descended back into _seiza_ , more of her fine features now uncovered behind the steadily closing fan. She finally flung her wrist sideways to close it thoroughly, her violet eyes gazing upward at the audience at last. Keeping her eyes trained on the dumbstruck and riveted expressions from most of the aristocrats, she laid the folded fan back to the floor before her, resuming her starting position of the dance.

And then she dropped her dark head and bowed, hands braced by the fan, dimly aware of the two stage maidens returning and pulling open the _byōbu_ in front of her.

The next thing she heard was a splattering of applause, as if in hesitation from shock, before the applause grew in volume and intensity, flourishing into a thunderous uproar.

Hisana, behind the assembled _byōbu_ , could not focus on the applause. Her dizziness, which has never fully waned, was growing now that the performance was over and the high of her adrenaline tapered off.

Black spots erupted in her vision.

She tried to scramble up, but the moment her head jerked, the stage spun so wildly that she thought she would hurl right then and there. She tried to see, but her vision had blackened further so that she was rendered blind, and she toppled weakly from her haunches to the side.

And then there was nothing.

* * *

 _:tbc:_

* * *

 **A/N:** The concept of the Celebration Dance was derived from the 355th episode of Bleach. That's where I got my inspiration from, haha. Anyway, thank you for reading and reviewing!


	19. Chapter 19: Loss

**Verse:** 'Half-Canon'.

* * *

Akari had been standing to the side of the rising audience, ready to assist should any of the aristocrats require her services, when she heard a faint _bump_ onstage behind the _byōbu_.

Akari had instantly stiffened at the strange sound. Something didn't feel right, especially when both the stage maidens turned rigid and gasped by the spread _byōbu._ Her suspicions were only further cemented when Lord Kuchiki rose to his feet in a flash, his white ceremonial haori fluttering behind him, and then—he was gone.

It took Akari a belated second to realise he'd executed Flash Step the instance he reappeared by the _byōbu_ onstage. All the other audience members were standing now, a murmur of perplexment and unrest rippling through them. Just a moment ago they had been grudgingly awestruck by Lady Kuchiki's outstanding performance, and now they were all unnerved by the puzzling but foreboding turn of events.

Akari hurried up the steps leading to the stage, her heart thundering in her ribs. She approached the _byōbu_ where the stage maidens had their hands cupping their mouths in aghast and sucked in a horrified breath herself. Hisana's tiny form lay motionlessly on her side, the dark scarlet silk of her kimono pooling around her. Her marigold _bira kanzashi_ was crooked in her hair.

"Hisana-sama," Akari choked out, taking a step forward. Lord Kuchiki had knelt down beside his fallen wife behind the _byōbu_ and was gently lifting her in his arms. Hisana's thickly lashed eyes were shut and her complexion unnaturally waxen, particularly in contrast with her dark lashes.

"Hisana," Byakuya murmured quietly to the inert woman in his arms, but she made no response. She didn't so much as stir at the deep, compelling tone of his baritone voice.

He looked up sharply at the stage maidens, his slate grey eyes as chilly as ice.

"Summon the physician," he said. "Now."

Akari couldn't believe this was happening. Hisana had been performing flawlessly just minutes ago. Why had she collapsed? Had she been pushing herself the entire time? Akari had chalked her pale complexion up to nerves, but what if she'd been feeling thoroughly unwell all this while?

Her pulse escalated in terror. Lady Kuchiki was with child. This was not right.

"Right away, Byakuya-sama!" both the stage maidens bowed in unison, and then scrambled together off the stage, the sleeves of their kimonos flickering behind them.

Lord Kuchiki proceeded to scoop the unconscious woman fully into his arms, the flowing hems of her exotic scarlet kimono trailing the wooden floor of the stage. Without hesitation, he turned on his heel and made for the fusuma panels at the back of the stage, his wife cradled to him. The murmurs of the crowd had risen in volume behind them, but Akari paid them no heed. The other servants would take care of the guests, but she was Lady Kuchiki's lady-in-waiting.

Her mistress was her priority.

She rushed for the panels so that she could open them for the Head of the House, but with his long-legged strides, he reached the panels before she did, and slid one of them fluidly open himself with an extended slender hand, his wife still supported in his arms.

Akari scrambled after him into the room where all the musicians were assembled. They hastily clambered to their feet, holding their _shamisen_ upright, and bowed deeply together as the Head of the House approached.

Lord Kuchiki merely walked towards the opened _shōji_ doors at the other end of the room without giving them a second glance. As he passed the opened doors, he vanished with a tell-tale flutter of his pale haori, and Akari realised with a jolt that he'd utilised Flash Step again.

She broke into a frantic sprint past the _shōji_ doors as well and down the winding corridor to her left, which led to the indoor passageway towards the Kuchiki Manor, slivers of sunlight straggling through the transom windows. Cursing herself for not knowing Flash Step, she pumped her legs faster, sweat beading under her muted, plain kimono.

It took what felt like an eternity before she reached the end of the seemingly endless passageway, which led into one of the innumerable corridors in the opulent Manor. She was instantly greeted by the sight of servants darting to and fro in a frenzy. Evidently, the household had been upended into utter chaos upon the Kuchiki Head's return.

One heavily panting maid approached Akaru, her hands balancing a bowl of water with a towel draped over her arm.

"Hurry, Akari," she instructed, holding out the bowl. "Take this, and head to Byakuya-sama and Hisana-sama's quarters. The physician should be coming any time now."

Akari obeyed, taking hold of the bowl of icy water. She could feel the coldness of the bowl searing through her skin. The maid draped the fresh towel over Akari's shoulder, then gestured impatiently at the latter to get going.

Akari scurried off, navigating her way through the maze of empty rooms and corridors in the manor towards her master and mistress' quarters. She could not believe the bleakness of the current state of affairs. Just like that, so very quickly, her mistress' triumphant and breathtaking performance had ended in shocking tragedy. The household was aware Lord Kuchiki had been preoccupied with his wife's health as of late, but she was sure no one had seen this coming.

Before long, she found herself by the opened _shōji_ doors of her master and mistress' private quarters. She entered the room, taking in the other handmaids milling about around a futon on the tatami floor. Upon taking a closer look, the bowl of water balanced carefully in her palms, she saw that the maids had stripped Hisana of her extravagant red kimono and the relevant layers underneath so that she was now in only her _hadajuban._ They'd also removed her hairpin.

Hisana remained still. She lay soundlessly on the futon, lashes casting shadows across her snow-white skin, looking almost like a petite, sleeping doll as one of the maids tucked the comforter over her. Her husband stood by the side of her futon, silently watching the handmaids attend to his prostrated lover, his profile cold and unreadable. Akari rapidly stepped forward and placed the bowl of water on the floor.

She took the towel and was about to dunk it into the bowl when he moved forward. Looking up, Akari recognised her master's intention and obsequiously held out the towel to him.

It was mind-boggling to see Kuchiki Byakuya seated in _seiza_ by his wife's futon, wordlessly but deftly wringing the towel dry by the water bowl. Before he'd met his wife, Akari had never seen the regal Head of the House perform such menial tasks before, especially not for anyone else other than himself.

Yet here he sat, softly dabbing Hisana's ashen cheeks with the damp, cool towel. He caressed every inch of her face and down her neck with the dripping cloth, then gently lifted one of her limp hands, kneading the fabric over the slant of her knuckles and the slender width of her diminutive fingers. Hisana's hand, already small, looked distinctly tiny in comparison to his.

The other servants stood, too captured by the moment to speak or move.

"Byakuya-sama."

It was the elderly physician. He stood at the doorway, flanked by a few of his assistants with the necessary medical equipment, as well as the hunched figure of Seike.

"We apologise for any delay," he said, hurrying towards the futon. "We came as soon as we were notified."

Lord Kuchiki said nothing. He had laid the towel back over the side of the bowl, but Hisana's motionless hand remained in his. His silence was telling enough that this was not the time for pleasantries.

This was an emergency.

The physician understood. He began examining Hisana, the other servants making way for him and his assistants. He lifted her eyelids, took her pulse, and one of his assistants took her temperature with the thermometer. He pinched her soft flesh with two of his fingers on her lower arm, then frowned.

"Hisana-sama is dehydrated," he said grimly. Nodding to the assistant directly beside him, he said, "Quick. Get the intravenous drip ready."

Akari was reeling. Dehydrated? Hisana was drinking her usual intake of water! She was immediately conscious of Lord Kuchiki turning narrowed grey eyes on her. If Hisana wasn't drinking enough water, it couldn't have been during the evenings, when he was around. The Head of the House kept an eagle eye on his wife pertaining to her health.

"I don't understand," she blurted. "Hisana-sama has been having her usual water intake. Recently, she was getting ready for the Celebration Dance, and I've set her cup in the hall where she practises every afternoon. The cup was always empty when I came to collect it."

"But you did not see her drink." Byakuya's voice was curiously flat.

"N–no, Byakuya-sama…" Akari squirmed. "But…" She took in a sudden breath when comprehension dawned upon her. "Hisana-sama's nausea has abated as of late. Surely, it couldn't be…?"

She felt sick. The room was deathly silent save for the sounds of the physician and his assistants attending to her mistress. A long tube joined Hisana's arm to the intravenous drip bag, which was held up by a metal stand beside the futon.

Had her mistress deliberately reduced her daily intake of water to manage her nausea so that she could prepare for the Celebration Dance? What had she been thinking? She was only a few weeks away from entering the second trimester of her pregnancy, and she'd dehydrated herself when she knew her body required it at such a crucial time?

"Byakuya-sama." Akari dropped to the tatami floor to perform _dogeza._ "I am so, so sorry. I have failed in my duty to watch over Hisana-sama. I... I failed to take into consideration just how determined Hisana-sama was to perfect the dance."

Hisana had wanted more than anything to restore the tarnished reputation of the man she loved because of his decision to wed her. Akari had known that, but she'd sorely underestimated her mistress' resolve nonetheless. She grimaced now, wishing she'd taken the time to better understand Hisana's emotional turmoil at the time. If she had, it might not have come to this.

Lord Kuchiki was not looking at Akari. He gazed soundlessly at his wife's blank face, then spoke quietly to the physician.

"How is she?"

The physician hesitated.

"Hisana-sama collapsed from accumulated dehydration. She should be all right now that we are rehydrating her with intravenous fluids, but her temperature seems to indicate a slight fever which is a little worrisome. For now, we will have to monitor Hisana-sama's condition. The baby…" He hesitated again. "I won't lie, Byakuya-sama. This is dangerous for both mother and child."

Byakuya was silent.

Akari bit her lip, balling her fists on the tatami floor.

"Come on, Akari," one handmaid bent and whispered to her. "Get up for now. This isn't the time for this."

Akari nodded, easing herself back to her sore knees. The other handmaid was right. Now was not the time to beg for forgiveness, and her employer was not in a forgiving mood. Hisana was far too ill. The entire household was on immediate standby to attend to her, and any other issues could wait.

The next hour passed in silence where Akari stood in the corner of the room, ready to assist when needed. Lord Kuchiki remained seated by his wife's side, holding her hand—the one without the catheter—while the physician sat by the drip bag and continued monitoring her condition, stopping every fifteen minutes to take her pulse.

And then Hisana stirred.

Akari inhaled sharply, taking a single step forward, unsure of how to proceed. All the occupants in the room tensed, including the physician, and Byakuya continued gazing unflinchingly at his wife.

Hisana emitted a whimper—a soft but agonised, keening sound—and Akari felt her pulse speed up in unease. Something was wrong. Her mistress' eyes were still closed, but her face was scrunched up as if she was in pain, and then, abruptly, her entire body tautened under the comforter.

"Hisana." The Kuchiki Head dipped his raven head towards his lover, his slender hand enveloping her smaller one soothingly, and then, just as suddenly as she'd gone taut, she slackened and went limp, seeming to fall back into total unconsciousness once more.

Byakuya gently placed her hand back onto the side of the bedding, and, in a single fluid motion, unexpectedly flipped over her comforter.

A horrified gasp ripped from Akari's throat. Staining the hem of Hisana's white _hadajuban_ was a gruesome dark red, and the blot of crimson was spreading onto the futon beneath her thighs. It was an ugly, jarring colour against the sterile white of the linen.

The physician and his attendants leapt into action. The former snapped his head towards Akari and barked, "I want fresh towels and sanitary napkins, as well as some warm water, _now_!"

Akari did as she was told and tore out of the room. Her heart was breaking, and she wiped the stinging tears that leaked from her eyes as she made her way swiftly to the laundry room.

Her mistress was miscarrying, and there was nothing anyone—not even her husband—could do to save the baby.

* * *

Lady Kuchiki had been sedated.

At some point in time later, she had awakened, though her violet eyes were glazed over and she had barely responded to the physician calling her name. She did not appear fully lucid.

But she had known. Akari didn't know how; maybe she was still in pain, or it was some unknown mother's instinct that Akari couldn't comprehend. It could have been a combination of both. Akari had never been with child before, and the concept of a mother's connection with her unborn child was completely foreign to her.

Yet, even without anyone informing her, Hisana had known. And she had opened her mouth and screamed.

Akari had never seen her sweet, demure mistress fall apart like this before. Seated on the _zabuton,_ Byakuya had leaned over her, taking hold of both her violently flailing hands while the physician injected a sedative to the intravenous drip bag. Eventually, her tortured, high-pitched screams had faded and she had crumpled back on the futon like a broken rag doll. The other occupants in the room had fallen silent, Byakuya's raven head lowered over his wife's unmoving form while he stroked her mussed hair.

The servants and the physician had withdrawn from the room. The couple had lost their child, and privacy was to be given for them to grieve. While Byakuya appeared nowhere as devastated as his wife about the loss of his child, he had still been an expectant father before.

And now he was not.

But Akari was certain that whatever pain he was feeling now had more to do with his wife than his child. In this universe, and in all of his life, there was no woman or soul whom he'd ever loved like Hisana.

If Hisana's stricken screams had cut through a saddened Akari like a knife, then the impact of Hisana's breakdown on her husband was far beyond Akari's imagination.

An hour later, Hisana's high fever soared to dangerous heights. Her breathing was harsh and broken, her chest rising and falling rapidly under the sheets. A cooling pad had been placed on her forehead, and she'd been administered antibiotics. The Kuchiki Head stayed by her bedside throughout. His dinner tray remained untouched on his study desk in the room.

Hisana's critical condition persisted overnight and into the following day. Byakuya kept vigil beside her throughout the night, and he continued watching over her in the day instead of heading to the Sixth Division. It was tremendous—he'd rarely, if ever, disregarded his duties in the Gotei Thirteen before his marriage. No one missed the implications behind his presence today, and the atmosphere in the household was tense and lugubrious, the servants subdued. Byakuya was exceedingly quiet, strands of long raven dark hair tucked behind one ear, lidded lashes fanned across his chiselled cheekbones as he gazed at his comatose wife.

"Byakuya-sama," Seike croaked at last by the doorway, once the sun had begun to set that following day. "Please, get some rest. The rest of the household will watch over Hisana-sama in the meantime."

Byakuya did not respond. Understandably, Hisana's condition was a cause for concern. Her fever refused to break; with the aid of antibiotics, her temperature fell and rose at intervals. She had yet to regain consciousness, and seemed to be having nightmares in the delirious haze of her fever. Occasionally she would emit grief-stricken whimpers and moans, as if she was in excruciating pain. Her husband would wordlessly place his hand over her forehead, tenderly smoothing away her sweaty hair, while his other hand clasped her trembling one.

And through all of her almost incoherent whimpering, Akari could hear her slurring the same few words over and over again in her sleep. It had taken the handmaid ten whole minutes before she finally registered those garbled words and pieced them into a proper sentence.

" _I did it again."_

She'd done it again. It wasn't difficult to understand what that meant. Many, many years ago, Lady Kuchiki had lost her baby sister. It was a fact well-established in the Kuchiki estate, considering she left the Manor so often for the Rukon District. The servants didn't dare talk about it, because it was a sensitive subject. As for how she had lost her sister, they weren't fully aware of the details. Had she deserted her? Had the baby been abducted?

Who knew?

But none of them were Hisana's primary lady-in-waiting, as Akari was. They hadn't witnessed Hisana sitting alone in her room during the hours her husband was away at the Sixth Division, her knees drawn as she stared unseeingly at Akari coming in with a tray of tea. They had never seen the distant but undisguised melancholy reflected in her large violet eyes in that moment—and something else.

Guilt. Remorse.

 _Regret_.

Some afternoons Akari would prepare a bath for Lady Kuchiki. Sitting in the _ofuro,_ her wet dark hair clinging to her cheeks, eyes big violet pools, her mistress would go off into a trance. Alone with just Akari, Hisana changed. She'd never lost her demure, ladylike disposition, but she seemed to be reduced to a ghost of her usual self—the diligent, determined self that tried her best in everything she could do, be it through rehearsing the Celebration Dance, in preparing the financial accounts for the Kuchiki's retail businesses in her husband's stead, or scouring the Rukon District for her sister.

Alone, despite her blatant happiness on her marriage to her husband, she could also be so very sad; withdrawn; tired. It'd struck Akari how fragile her mistress appeared then. Under her sweet, smiling demeanour was a very troubled woman with much more baggage than anyone could have expected.

And Akari was certain that a great deal of that baggage linked back to her missing sister.

Lord Kuchiki would know the details. He knew his wife better than anyone else, including Akari. The handmaid had no clue just how much Hisana had confided in him of her past and her current depression and guilt, but it was definitely more than Hisana had ever confided in Akari. Akari did not fault her mistress' secrecy. The couple were similar in more ways that one might expect—they kept their feelings tightly under wraps.

But now, as Hisana lay on the futon in a feverish state, softly moaning aloud, Akari was reminded of the girl she'd been in the _ofuro_ : vulnerable, her face flushed, her emotions laid bare.

" _I did it again."_

Akari withdrew from the room, shutting the _shōji_ doors lightly.

It was going to be a long night—and for the subsequent nights to come.

* * *

 _:tbc:_


	20. Chapter 20: Winter — Part I

**Verse:** 'Half-Canon'.

* * *

A month had passed since the Celebration Dance.

Hisana barely remembered the first week and a half of it. She'd been completely bedridden during that time, and half-conscious throughout. She hazily recalled awakening at intervals to see calm slate grey eyes gazing down upon her, and the sensation of a steady hand clasping hers. But that hadn't taken away the awful cramp in her belly.

She'd been terrified at the pain, not because it was agonising, but because of what it signified. Immediately, she'd looked up into those grey eyes with all the concentration she could weakly muster, begging him internally to reassure her that all was well.

That their child was fine.

But he'd said nothing, and she'd known. There was no way he had misread the question from the tacit plea in her expression. Yet other than his warm hand on hers and the almost imperceptible softness to those liquid dark eyes, he had not said a word in response.

At his telling silence, she'd felt an unknown hand close over her beating heart, and crush it into smithereens.

And then it had all transcended into a blur—a blur of rage and heartbreak and despair. She might've had screamed and fought in the midst of it. She didn't know.

Hisana didn't care.

She'd lost her baby. That single thought ricocheted in her mind through a feverish haze of hysteria. She'd lost another child again. But this baby had been different from her baby sister. He had literally grown inside of her belly, the product of her love for her husband, his tiny heart beating within her womb.

And more than anything, she had been a mother for eleven weeks. Even though she had never seen her baby, she had loved him—had fiercely loved him ever since she'd learnt of his existence within her, despite how much she'd told herself at the beginning that she didn't want him.

She had been terrified of wanting him.

But want him she did. She'd wanted to wait until he got bigger inside her, to feel him nudge and kick and move in her belly. She'd wanted to give birth to him, to hear him cry for the very first time, to hold his soft, rosy body in her arms and shower him with all the love that she'd been unable to give her sister.

She wanted to kiss his little cheeks, to kiss him top to toe, to tell him how much she loved him even if he couldn't understand her. She'd wanted him to know that he would always be loved, that she would never abandon him, even if it cost her life.

Evidently, it had cost much less to abandon him regardless.

For a week and half, Hisana lived in a tortured oblivion perpetuated by vivid nightmares replaying the Elder's mocking visage when he'd visited her, of the contemptuous profiles from the audience during her performance, of fragmented memories of the baby girl she'd lived with in the Rukon District decades ago.

 _You did it again,_ the fabricated Elder in her nightmares had said. _But of course—I failed to take into considerations your origins, Hisana-sama._

 _Did we expect anything better from someone who abandoned her flesh and blood before?_ Kuchiki Nanami had asked.

 _No,_ Kuchiki Byakuya had said. _We did not._

Hisana opened her eyes. She didn't know how much time had passed since she'd last awoken, and she couldn't see or hear anything other than the afterimages from her nightmare. She felt terribly hot and cold at the same time, sweat trickling down her spine, and the raging maelstrom of sensations threatened to obliterate her.

Hisana had screamed.

Then she'd felt a warm hard surface pressed to her writhing form, followed by strong arms embracing her, and the familiar mixed scent of rain, ink, old books and something exclusive only to the man she loved had soothed her olfactory senses. The last thing she registered was a sharp needle pricking her skin, and she'd sunk back into welcoming unconsciousness.

This time, her nightmares receded, but she found herself drifting in and out of what felt like an endless stupor. Throughout this time, she'd always awoken for mere seconds to feel a familiar hand enveloping hers. Her dimmed senses would linger on the callused fingertips against her skin, and somehow that provided her comfort before she lapsed into slumber again.

It was a week and a half before Hisana fully regained consciousness at last, her fever broken. Not that she herself had been aware of the number of days; Akari had informed her eventually.

It had been dawn, Hisana had noted, based on the feeble sunlight filtering through the transom windows and _shōji_ screens. Lifting her left hand, she'd observed a catheter inserted into the back of it with an adhesive plaster, and which was attached to an intravenous drip bag beside her futon.

And then she'd realised her husband was lying beside her.

Seeing Byakuya asleep always proved to be a novelty, even though she'd witnessed it countless times now. He was as elegant asleep as he was awake, his long lashes splayed across his high cheekbones, his exquisite features unerringly serene. She drank in the sharp planes of his face, of the chiselled line of his jaw, of the high arch of his nose, and of those angular cheekbones. He always slept so soundlessly that she wondered if he ever dreamed.

Like a moth to light, she hadn't even realised she'd raised her hand—the one with the catheter—on a dazed whim to touch his face. Before she could move further, his long sooty lashes rose to reveal a piercing slate grey that bored straight into her startled violet eyes.

Her hand froze in mid-air, her heart pounding. Hisana could feel colour flooding her cheeks. Not for the first time, but especially not now, she couldn't meet his gaze, and she averted her eyes. As beautiful as he might appear in repose, she was certain the same could not be said for herself. Her hair was dishevelled, her complexion pallid, her lips colourless.

She didn't feel like herself. She felt spent, worn, and fatigued, as if some sort of war had ended and she'd barely made it out alive. She felt broken, shaken and bitter.

She felt like something had died inside of her—and it had.

Her raised hand shook and she'd been about to let it fall when his slender, bigger one gently cupped the back of her palm. His long fingers laced through her thin ones, the heart of his palm encompassing the adhesive plaster holding the needle to her skin.

Hisana had stared at their entwined hands for a moment, the catheter trailing from between them, emotion trapped in her throat.

There were so many things she had wanted to say, but her airways seemed to have constricted, the words lodged like deadweight at the back of her throat.

 _I love you._

 _I tried._

 _I really tried, Byakuya-sama. But I miscalculated._

 _Yet I deserved this, for what I did in the past._

Unable to stop the wretched spasm in her chest, she'd pressed her face into the side of his robed shoulder. His hold on her hand tightened by a fraction, his thumb slowly caressing the slant of her knuckles, but he had said nothing, even though he must had felt her hot wet tears seeping into the fabric of his robe.

For that, she'd been glad, because it gave her the courage to sob freely into him. She'd continued weeping, her voice breaking with every unbridled sob. The gale of the winter howled against the walls of the manor, echoing the grief in her soul.

 _I'm sorry._

* * *

The subsequent weeks had eventually bled into a full month since the Celebration Dance. According to Akari, her performance had been a resounding success. It was the most mesmerising portrayal the noble families had viewed in decades, especially since Hisana had introduced new choreography and added a twist to a dance which had followed a similar script for all of those years. It was a risk she'd taken but pulled off marvellously.

Hisana had smiled wanly at Akari's enthusiasm in conveying those news to her, and a part of her had been genuinely happy that, even in the most trivial of ways, she'd managed to give something back to her lover. Her performance would reflect well on the Head of the House, though she had yet to ask or know how Byakuya had perceived her dance. There was a side to her shyly curious about it.

But none of that could erase the pain of her loss.

Her fever, while broken, had weakened her body severely. If she'd thought she could continue with her everyday life as per normal, she'd been absolutely wrong. The fever wasn't like the last one she'd had when she'd first moved into the Kuchiki Manor, which had lasted for a mere few days. This fever, on the other hand, had taken its toll for almost two weeks, and had sorely compromised her immune system according to the physician.

She'd felt it. She could barely do anything for more than an hour without feeling the overwhelming need to lie down. The second day after her fever had broken, she'd requested to get out of bed to have dinner with her husband (prior to that, she'd been receiving her meals in bed), and she'd ended up swaying on her _zaisu_ halfway through their meal.

Byakuya, who had hardly touched his dishes to keep a sharp eye on her, had caught her before she fell and then lifted her to bring her to bed. For the following week, she'd continued having her meals in bed, her back propped up by numerous pillows. Her meals were accompanied by medication in the form of endless pills and tablets, which she abhorred but took without complaint. Medicine was a luxury many in the Rukon District did not have.

She also knew she'd been outed when the physician had informed the household that she was dehydrated. She'd neglected her own health, and destroyed her unborn child in the process. Byakuya had been right all along about his reservations regarding her health.

She wanted more than anything to apologise to her husband, who appeared as calm and unfathomable as ever, and beg him to forgive her, but somehow, the words still wouldn't come. All she was capable of now was to do as she was told and take her medication.

The truth was, she couldn't even forgive herself in the first place.

Above all, Hisana felt too bone-tired and hollow to complain. She picked at her food, her appetite decimated by the grief gnawing at her heart. It was easy to eat less in the day when her husband was absent. Akari would cajole her into eating more, and she'd take a few more half-hearted bites. This would go on for a while before the resigned servants finally cleared the food tray.

Byakuya was another story altogether. Unlike the servants, he did not speak. Once done with his own meal—he'd taken to having his meals in his quarters with Hisana ever since she'd fallen ill—he would merely sip his tea and watch her pick on her food. He did not push her, but maintained his silence while she ate. And unlike Akari who eventually gave in, this could go on for hours. He did not permit the servants to clear the tray, not until she'd finished at least half of her food, regardless of how long that could take.

By then, Hisana has grown so wary of dragging her meals out that she'd willed herself to eat during meals with her husband.

It was difficult to tell how he was taking any of this. But one thing never changed; he was her rock, her anchor amidst her suffocating depression boxing her in. For many long wintry nights, he would hold her on the futon as she succumbed to tears once again. She would sob into his chest, his arms around her, and he would quietly stroke her hair through it all until she fell asleep.

He was the only outlet for her pain, because Hisana simply could not bring herself to show such vulnerability with anyone else. Not even poor Akari, who looked so very flustered, worried and anxious around her. The handmaid seemed to be walking on eggshells each day with her mistress, apparent by how cautiously but tenderly she addressed the latter, as if Hisana was made of fine glass.

As much as Hisana appreciated Akari's care, the handmaid's treatment did not put her at ease. Her husband, however, remained steadfast. He did not cajole her. He did not appear in any shape or form put off by her condition. The way he regarded her had not appeared to change.

And when she broke down, he would simply hold her trembling frame in his warm arms.

Those nights, she felt as if he was the only thing keeping her together before she derailed entirely.

Yet he had to be hurting too. She remembered that morning not too long after she'd found out she was pregnant. It was imprinted in one of the many mental snapshots she had of him; his hands on hers over the flat of her belly, his deep silky baritone murmur across her skin.

" _Our child."_

He'd been a father that had loved his child. She wasn't naive enough to think that the child's loss had stricken him that deeply like it had stricken her, but it would be a lie to say he was indifferent, despite his outward appearance. She knew this much.

But Hisana also knew that it was less her miscarriage than her condition that hurt him. She hated herself for it; hadn't she sworn to herself during their wedding vows that she would alleviate his burden wherever she could? She loved him so much she couldn't stand him hurt, but the pain just would not go away, and no matter how many times she'd told herself to stay strong for his sake, she'd end up sobbing at night.

She couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't do anything. And worst of all she knew her husband was watching the woman he loved wither away, and she couldn't do anything about that.

A month passed, just like that. February arrived, heralding the final month of the winter. She'd spent most of this winter in the opulent manor, where she was safe and warm from the biting cold. It was so different from her days in the Rukon District only last year, where she'd been huddled in her decrepit hut wearing a tattered robe and a moth-eaten mantle she'd scavenged somewhere with only her lit candle for warmth, her breath fleeing her lips in spirals of fog.

And wherever she was, her little sister was out there, living that very life she'd left behind.

Hisana sat in the _ofuro_ that afternoon _,_ her skinny knees drawn to herself, her arms folded atop said knees. Thanks to the weeks of bed rest, her husband's watchful eye over her diet as well as her expensive medication and vitamins, her health had improved vastly compared to how she'd been three weeks ago. She surmised she was almost back to normal, but easily dizzy and fatigued. Her physician had now recommended she get a little exercise, but nothing too extreme.

She drew her knees tighter to herself, the steaming hot water sloshing slightly from where it gathered up to her miniature breasts—breasts that had shrunken even smaller from her weight loss. She reckoned that in the past one month, she'd shed most of the weight she'd gained since moving into the estate. It was funny to think that before the New Year, she'd envisioned herself with a fuller figure, her breasts bigger, her belly rounded with child.

If she had not lost her child, she would be roughly sixteen weeks along today, well into her second trimester.

Hisana bit the inside of her cheek as the familiar anguish welled up inside her. It was so agonising and heart-wrenching to think of the baby she'd lost, and the sister she had left behind. She shut her eyes, but was surprised that the usual desire to weep did not strike her.

She was wrung dry, at least for today.

The papery sound of the _shōji_ door sliding open broke her out of her reverie, and she turned her head lethargically from where she'd been resting it on her arms, which were splayed atop her knees. Assuming it was Akari who'd returned to check on her, she stayed still, too tired to move further, her head draped sideways on her folded arms.

"I'm all right, Akari-san," she said softly. "I'll drain my bath myself when I'm done."

When no response came her way, she frowned, then angled her head fully around.

Her husband stood by the doorway, watching her. Her pulse instantly skyrocketed at his unexpected presence, her mouth turning dry. Her heart rate only sped up further as, with a languid, catlike grace, he approached her, the ends of his windflower silk scarf fluttering behind him.

"Byakuya-sama," Hisana stammered, her cheeks flushing. "You're back early from work today…"

It was a wonderful surprise, but she felt oddly self-conscious as well. He had not seen much of her in the nude for the past month, because as unbelievable as it was, they had not made love in that time. The physician had cautioned them against having intercourse so soon after she'd miscarried for fear that she might suffer an infection in her cervix, which had partially dilated from her miscarriage. He had advised them to wait until her next menstrual period had concluded before engaging in intercourse again.

For the couple, it had marked a significant transition from making love almost every day to abstaining for a full month. Yet they somehow managed all the same; Hisana, who was too devastated, and Byakuya, who would never jeopardize her health. For the first few weeks, she had been far too ill to contemplate attempting anything as vigorous as intercourse.

And on many nights, the mere act of trying not to cry exhausted enough of her energy to consider anything else.

Byakuya stopped before her where the _ofuro_ was elevated on a wooden platform, and she instinctively lowered her lashes as he extended a slender gloved hand and wordlessly brushed off a droplet of water from her cheek with his thumb. She sighed inaudibly as he cupped her heart-shaped face, her pulse racing, her complexion suffused with colour, and not just from the heat of her bath.

Their current dynamics were striking; she, completely bare and wet, and he, fully dressed in his regal windflower silk scarf, _shihakushō_ and Captain's haori.

His hand trailed deliberately down her delicate jawline, and then cupped the side of her porcelain neck, her wet dark hair clinging to the back of his _tekkō_. It was impossible for him not to feel her accelerated pulse, but his visage remained ever-so tranquil—almost detached, even. Her breathing continued to quicken when he leaned forward, his hand sliding down the curve of her fair neck to caress the creamy skin below her clavicles, and then down to the swells of flesh rising and falling rapidly from her shallow breathing.

Having let go of her initially drawn knees, Hisana gripped the edge of the rounded _ofuro,_ swallowing at the sensation of her husband cupping her right breast. His smothering dark grey eyes pierced her entranced violet orbs the entire time, ensnaring her into a trance.

And then his calloused thumb brushed against the pebbled pink tip of her nipple, and she couldn't help it.

She let out a soft moan.

His eyes darkened at the sound, but instead of furthering his ministrations, he unexpectedly let her go. She peered up at him a little breathlessly, disappointed and confused.

"Byakuya-sama…" she began, but he turned on his heel, pulling and unravelling the lengthy windflower silk scarf off his neck within the same fluid motion.

Hisana stopped, the ball of anticipation and nerves growing in her tummy as he carelessly tossed the refined silvery strip of his scarf over the lacquered kimono stand in the corner of the bathroom. Watching him disrobe himself never failed to fascinate her, though typically, she loved doing it for him as well.

His haori, gloves, and _shihakushō_ were next to follow with the methodical efficiency she'd learned to associate with him, his deft fingers unhesitant and assured as they subsequently undid the knots of his _himo_. His _kosode, shitagi, obi,_ and _hakama_ were shed within minutes and draped over the stand neatly.

Hisana could feel heat stirring in her loins at the sight of her naked lover. Unlike Hisana, he did not appear at all self-conscious about his nudity as she'd been. He padded unhurriedly towards the _ofuro,_ revealing under those layers of clothing an undeniably male body cut discreetly with corded muscle, its elegant leanness belying an unspoken but remarkable strength. Nothing ever stole her breath like he did. It took everything she had to tear her eyes off the impressive rise of his biceps and broad shoulders, which tapered down to a narrow waist and a flat abdomen sculpted faintly with muscle.

And even further down was evidence of his arousal.

Until now Hisana could not understand why she aroused him. She was tiny and slim, her breasts small in proportion, which made her feel the furthest from ever being sexy. The idea that her husband had forsaken a willowy buxom beauty like Kasumiōji Itsumi for herself still floored her at times. And the fact that he wanted her—evident by the way his gaze always darkened at the sight of her slight curves, by the visible prominence of his arousal, by how much he liked to touch her down below—was unthinkable.

She scooted quickly to the side of the _ofuro,_ keeping her eyes resolutely on the steamy water rippling over her toes as he descended gracefully into the bath behind her. The scorching heat of his presence made the bathwater seem almost cool in comparison, and her breath hitched as one muscled thigh stretched out lazily beside her and caged her own soft diminutive thigh in, bringing the girl towards her lover until she was pressed directly to the sleek male musculature behind her.

"B—Byakuya-sama," Hisana whispered, her cheeks on fire. She didn't know why she was feeling so unbearably shy right now. This was certainly not the first time their bodies were entwined together, but most of that happened under their bed sheets or robes, and not where she could clearly see their entwined limbs beneath the splashing water. The pair did not bathe together frequently since she typically did so in the day while he would bathe once he returned in the evening.

Needless to say, she had also been far too ill and devastated the past month to enjoy anything carnal.

But it was impossible for her to miss the carnal undertones between them now, not when she could feel _him_ pressed behind her, her heartbeat turning increasingly erratic at his contact. Yet as he wrapped both arms around her from behind, she unconsciously relaxed into him, the top of her head tucked beneath his chin. She exhaled sedately, feeling blissfully safe and cocooned in the sanctuary of his embrace.

She remembered being held by him like this for the very first time; it had been the day after they'd been officially betrothed, at the hot springs situated at the other side of the estate. She had felt just as tremendously safe then.

 _In his arms, all of her worries fell away. In his arms, all those decades of pain, exhaustion and suffering at the Rukon District faded from her weary body._

 _In his arms, she was complete._

And now it was more than that, she thought. In his arms, she could cry. In his arms, she could be vulnerable.

In his arms, she could allow herself to fall apart, knowing he would keep her together.

Hisana twisted her neck around towards Byakuya, tilting her head upwards at him as she did so. She didn't have to speak, for he'd already read her mind, his raven head bent towards her, silken strands of his long hair skimming her cheeks.

And like the first time they'd bathed together all those months ago, they kissed, his cool lips languorously but meticulously probing her ardent ones. She kissed him back passionately, holding nothing back, her eyes fluttering shut as she melted into the thorough kiss.

He tasted like heaven, something she had not tasted for a long time.

Molten arousal flared between her legs at the kiss, and her thighs squirmed in the water at the acute sensation, heightened after a month of celibacy. Deeply aroused by his heady kisses, she felt like a virgin again as she dimly remembered how bewildered she'd once been by her body's reaction to their kisses. Much to her frustration, though, the physician's warning came to mind. Her period was not here yet. Even if it did come, she would have to wait three to five days for it to end before he could take her.

Suddenly Hisana wondered how the hell she had gone an entire month without partaking in him.

Byakuya must had sensed her agitation, for without breaking off their kiss, he reached down and ran his thumb across the tight pink bud of her right nipple, causing her to moan into him. Her head was spinning from the slant of his lips devouring and claiming every inch of her parted hot wet mouth, his thumb and index finger tweaking her pebbled nipple. With his palm, he cupped the rounded mound of her breast—her miniature size fit perfectly into his hands—his fingertips toying relentlessly with her hard nipple.

He then switched to his other hand and gently cupped her left breast, the rough pad of his thumb fondling her neglected left nipple. She was breathing extremely harshly now, his splayed long-fingered hand cupping the jerky rise and fall of her little breast, his lips kissing down her neck. His right hand glided down the milky-white skin of her belly, down her hip, and moved in between her soft thighs underwater.

Hisana emitted a strangled whimper.

He caressed her dripping labia amidst the fine curls of hair, his fingertips dipping deliberately along the strip of her center, lingering closely to her perineum. It was so close—too close, yet not completely unknown territory to him. He'd stimulated her back there before, both with his fingers and mouth, and her skin turned scarlet at the memory of the shocking and shameful pleasure he'd elicited. However, he eventually slid his hand up now and she sat there, trembling, as he parted her labia with his adroit fingers, before pressing his forefinger directly over her clitoris.

" _Aah!_ "

Oblivious to the splashing of the bathwater, Hisana arched her back, the hot-white ecstasy catching her off-guard. It had been a month since she'd felt this pleasure, and she'd almost forgotten how staggering it could be. It didn't help that he was still cleverly manipulating her left nipple with his other hand, and she lay against him, feeling like a puppet being expertly strummed by a puppeteer, body taut with a building euphoric tension.

She clung to his hard triceps, shivering and moaning again uncontrollably when Byakuya licked a bead of sweat off her neck, his tongue slick and velvety against her flesh. The pressure in her lower belly was at a feverish pitch now, his index finger rubbing her sensitised clitoris incessantly. By now, he knew her petite body like the back of his hand, knew exactly how much force and friction he needed to apply to make her come, and he was currently only a hairbreadth away from it. Just for now, she could tell that he wanted to draw her pleasure out a little longer.

But she hadn't done this for a month, and judging by the stars erupting in her vision, she couldn't last. Her thighs snapped together, clamping his lean, long-fingered hand in a vice-grip between them, and a thin high cry of relief escaped her. She could feel the boiling pressure within her shatter and release through rapid-fire contractions of her vaginal muscles.

In those few seconds as she rode out her orgasm on his hand, her mind became totally blank, her grief forgotten. The calloused pads of his fingers continued teasing her rosy nipple, magnifying her intense climax.

It was also the first orgasm she'd had since her miscarriage.

She collapsed into him, her heartbeat roaring in her ears, her thighs slackening from where she'd been squeezing his hand in between them so tightly she could have crushed his bones for all she knew. Blood rushed to her face at the gradual realisation of what she'd done.

"Bya—Byakuya-sama," Hisana said hoarsely, trying to refocus. "I'm so sorry—"

She broke off, sucking in a laboured breath when he caressed her inner thigh with that same hand, lazily cupping the baby-soft, alabaster flesh into his palm.

"I—I'm sorry—" she tried again, but he kissed the sensitive spot behind her earlobe, and she quivered, cursing his knowledge of all her erogenous zones.

It was then that she registered the hardness of his erection behind her, and her pulse skittered in her veins. He was bigger than before, her climax having clearly affected him. In turn, that part of him never failed to arouse her, and she could feel the familiar simmering desire pooling in her lower abdomen once more.

She wanted Byakuya so badly she half-feared she would combust from it all.

Biting her lip, Hisana shifted around slightly in the _ofuro_ and reached out a slim hand, enclosing her dainty fingers around the length of him. The texture reminded her of warm velvet enveloping steel, and she stretched out her small digits in an attempt to grip the entirety of his girth, riveted by the feel of him in her hand.

Wanting to give him the same pleasure he had given her, she stroked him, pumping her hand up and down the length of his arousal. He was silent and unmoving for a few seconds, his heavy dark gaze on her, and then his hand closed over her skinny wrist, effectively halting her motions.

"Byakuya-sama," Hisana protested, but he spoke, his voice a rich, husky baritone murmur across her naked skin, causing goosebumps to erupt.

She was not prepared for what he said next.

"Do you have something to tell me about your plans tomorrow?"

Her mouth fell open, and she stiffened, feeling flabbergasted.

How—?

"A–Akari-san told you?" she forced out.

He merely watched her in response, those slate grey eyes unreadable, his long black hair swept to one side of his neck. She couldn't fathom what he was thinking.

This wasn't how she'd planned this at all.

Since the Celebration Ceremony, she had not visited the Rukon District, and with good reason. For the past month, she'd been cooped up in the manor, recuperating. She'd been the sickest she'd ever been her whole life. Now that she was finally getting better and that the physician had even advised her to do some light exercise, she'd decided this morning that it was time to resume her hunt for her sister. She had waited long enough, and she needed to make whatever she could salvage right again.

The only issue now was informing her husband. She'd decided to inform him tonight, and that meant she would have to marshal her resolve and rehearse her speech by then.

But he had returned home early in the afternoon, and it appeared Akari had already informed him of Hisana's decision. Hisana felt a tad upset with her handmaid for betraying her confidence, but she was guessing Seike might have coerced the information out of her.

Hisana wasn't ready. She was barely in the right state of mind—a few minutes ago she had just come completely undone in Byakuya's arms. Never mind her rehearsed speech; she was still struggling to collect her senses at present.

"Byakuya-sama," Hisana said at last, taking the time to weigh her words carefully in her frazzled mind. "I was planning to let you know tonight. I… I feel a lot better now. The physician said I was better too. I won't be gone long, just an hour or so. It's been a month since I went back, and the physician did recommend I get some exercise. I'm sure I'm ready."

She knew she was not fooling him. The physician's definition of 'exercise' had probably constituted a walk in the gardens, not an excursion all the way out of Seireitei. But she would take what she could get nonetheless.

Hisana waited with bated breath for his answer. She had a hunch he was going to have her wait another week, and was on the verge of resigning herself to that when he spoke again, simply and matter-of-factly.

"I will go with you."

She stared uncomprehendingly at him for a millisecond, and then his words sunk in.

"Wh—what?" she gasped. "I—I don't…"

He arched a dark brow at her dumbstruck expression, and she hastily intervened.

"Byakuya-sama, you… you wish to come with me to the Rukon District?" she questioned, unable to suppress the surprise from her voice.

In response, he wound an arm around her petite waist, bringing her closer to him. Hesitantly, she lowered her head on his shoulder, breathing in his tantalising scent.

"Is there a problem with that?" Byakuya murmured calmly.

Her head jerked up at once.

"No, Byakuya-sama, of course not," she said emphatically. "It's just… Byakuya-sama has never gone with me on any of my trips before."

He considered her words briefly.

"Yes," he acknowledged. "That's true."

She was aware that since marrying Byakuya, she'd never actually gone to the Rukon District alone. It was easy to assume otherwise considering that no one visibly accompanied her, but there had on been one occasion when a scrummy thug from Hanging Dog had grown hostile with her because she would not sleep with him.

The next thing she knew, the thug had been sprawled unconscious on the filthy earth, a man standing over him.

Her saviour's uniform had reminded her of a ninja's, with a headpiece which concealed his face save for his eyes, and tight bands shrouding his arms and legs. He had glanced at her to check for any injuries, and then bowed briefly to her before vanishing altogether using Flash Step.

But right before he'd departed, she'd seen the insignia stenciled on the top of his headpiece.

It had been the Kuchiki crest.

Hisana had never mentioned the incident to Byakuya, and he, too, had said nothing, even though she was certain her saviour had reported the day's happenings to him. But she'd gone to bed with a warm glow in her chest that night, knowing her husband had taken lengths to protect her even when he was not around.

This, however, would mark his first time accompanying her to the Rukon District. She couldn't remember the last time he'd been there, save for when he'd used to visit her while she'd lived there.

An aristocrat of his standing didn't belong there, and Kuchiki Byakuya would never have associated himself with that place—be it back then, or now—if not for her.

She lowered her eyes, hating herself for having to constantly sully the man she loved, but knowing that she hadn't a choice if she needed to find her sister.

By the end of the day, the Elders were right: she and her husband hailed from two completely different worlds, and nothing would change that.

"Okay," Hisana whispered at last, into the smooth skin of his bicep. "Let's go together tomorrow, Byakuya-sama."

* * *

 _:tbc:_

* * *

 **A/N:** This is the first part of a two-shot. The next chapter is a direct sequel.


End file.
